From Out The Golden Mist
by TheSiilverLining
Summary: Learning to truly live after the destruction of the Dark Lord is easier said than done. This is the story of how Harry and the rest make their way into the brightness that the future holds. They live, they laugh, they cry – but never, ever do they forget
1. Prologue: The First Step

A.N.: Hi everyone :) This is my story From Out the Golden Mist. Its all DH compliant except that it basically replaces the epilogue. Think of this chapter as a sort of prologue for the story though. I plan for the actual story to take place during the 19 years gap, and possibly even beyond. This chapter is basically Harry stepping out of the Mist. This is Harry finding himself in a world that is right and good for once, and having to deal with the strangeness of it. Hope you enjoy, hope you review :)

- TheSiilverLining

**A.N. from Aug 2011: Hello Dear reader :) Just want to let you know a little bit about how this story is developing. I originally started this story 4 years ago, very soon after the release of DH. I wrote a few chapters, but then life took over and this story was abandoned since then. I took up this story again near the end of this July and have been steadily chipping away at it. For the time being at least, you can expect SOME sort of regular update. Nothing as long as 4 years, promise :) The second thing I want to say is that from the time that I started this story till now, there are pieces of information that JK has shared with us outside of the books that change some of the details already written. Due to that, and because my writing style has certainly changed in the last four years, I am going to work on reworking up all of the chapters that were written earlier. The story will NOT change, just some minor details and the writing. That all for now :) Enjoy reading!**

**- The Siilver Lining **

_Immediately, the world righted itself. Harry fell forwards onto his knees on the wonderfully solid ground. He felt temporarily limp with shock. He took a deep, steadying breath, then got up again, and hurried forwards, looking back over his shoulder as he ran out of the golden mist, which twinkled innocently at him in the moonlight._

-_Goblet of Fire_

From out the Golden Mist

Harry savoured the slowness of life after the Final Battle. He rather reveled in the safeness of it, and the sureness that every new day brought. He was gone. Gone. There was once a time when he couldn't see past the blinding green light that had once, twice robbed him of everything dear. Harry had lived enough of life for 7 people during his 17 years on the planet. He thought he had lived it all; and then, it was as if he walked out from that golden mist. Suddenly the world had righted itself. The sky once rent with darkness was now drenched in light. As if this had not been difficult enough to comprehend, this new sunlight-dappled world was inked with sadness. Oh, there was sadness. How not after the deaths of so many he loved? And there was guilt. As far as Harry was concerned, it was his fault his small godson was now parentless, an eerie echo of his own fate. Dobby who had died with Harry's name on his lips, and Hedwig who had deserved a much better manner of life than she had at Number 4 Privet Drive had served him as friends of unwavering loyalty. There was guilt and grief for even those who Harry had not harboured great fondness for such as Rufus Scrimgeour.

It was only later in life that Harry understood that in this period of receding darkness it was easier to deal with the feelings of sadness, of sorrow and guilt. These sensations were familiar to Harry; thus far it was nearly all that he had known in life. It was much more difficult to contemplate this strange sense of safety and relief. It was stranger to think that never again would he be forced to peer into the mind of Tom Riddle and see cruelty and death. Never again would he be sent retching from the ice hot pain in his forehead. Never again would people he loved feel Voldemort's cold hand of death close on their lives…

And yet, it was too late to bring them back; Lupin, and Tonks, Fred and the many others that had died in Harry's name. It was in anguish that Harry had approached Mrs. Weasley, the mother of his heart, after the Final Battle. Harry did not know what words would be enough to explain the tearing feeling of remorse. He did not know how to tell her that he was sorry she would have to bury her own son. How does one ask for forgiveness for putting an entire family into danger? What could he say to her to make her recognize how very sorry he was for putting her through all this? Her husband lethally attacked, her eldest son scared for life, one son estranged, one maimed, her youngest son pushed to his breaking point, and her only daughter abducted by evil itself. And of course…there was Fred.

In the hours after the last stand, Harry walked again into the Great Hall and made his way towards where the Weasleys were congregated around three covered bodies. Mrs. Weasley, with tears on her face stood when Harry drew near. His heart was filled with sorrow but there also lurked a selfish desire and hope that the Weasleys could forgive him, that he would not lose them too. He knew that they could never intentionally hurt him, but deep inside he wondered whether Mrs. Weasley could bear to call him Son again. However the time for misery in Harry's life had passed.

"_Oh Harry, Dear_" Mrs. Weasley whispered as she reached up to take his head in her hands. She lowered his head towards her and planted a kiss on his forehead.

_"Oh Harry, your alright. Thank goodness you're alright."_ Her voice croaked and she closed her eyes against the fresh tears.

It was too much for Harry, he did not fight the tears that came to his own eyes.

_"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley."_ He whispered to her, a trace of plea in his voice_. "I'm so sorry."_

But she was shaking her head now, a trace of a smile on her face. She drew him into an embrace and whispered so that only he could hear,

_"It's alright now, Harry."_

And Harry knew it really would be alright.

There was a sense of closure as Harry came to accept his new life. He relished every second knowing that many more happy moments were his. He spent the summer with the Weasleys and Hermione playing quidditch in the orchard and degnoming the garden. He filled himself up on Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking and to his credit learned some of her tricks. Harry resumed his steady relationship with Ginny once again. It was slow, painfully, teasingly slow. Ginny was sharp however, and she knew that it was what Harry needed. She knew that his greatest fear was that one day he would awake with his scar burning and Voldemort's cruel voice ringing in his ears. She could not blame him for thinking it was all too good to be true. She was patient, and she would wait for him as she had before. Harry on the other hand took sheer joy in knowing that they had their whole lives ahead of them. The pressure to say the right thing at the right time was lifted and every second spent in the company of Ginny was like a benediction. With time on his side, he and Ginny made up for the stolen time. He took pleasure in every midnight broom ride with his arms about her waist, and every second spent cooking breakfast with her. That summer he was everything he wanted to be: a good boyfriend, a good son, and free to live his life.

Harry's 18th birthday was a quiet bittersweet affair, with only his most beloved friends in attendance. An afternoon of quidditch ended with an evening of Mrs. Weasley's finest food and cake. After that, the summer seemed to fly by, each day more glorious then the last. Soon it was September 1st and Harry, Ron and Hermione accompanied Ginny to the Hogwarts Express. Harry had not yet told anyone that his own personal limbo greatly resembled King's Cross Station. It made sense however, he mused. This had been where his life had turned; this is where he entered that golden mist that threw his life upside down. It was only fitting that it would be the place where he would step out of it, where things would for once be right. Harry smiled vaguely as he helped Ginny with her trunk and kissed her goodbye. It's not really goodbye at all, he thought as he stood with Ron and Hermione and watched the train pull away.

With the help of Mr. Weasley and Aberforth, Harry, Ron and Hermione had found a small cottage which they rented for themselves at Hogsmeade. It was a cozy dwelling with two levels and three bedrooms. There was also a pleasant kitchen and small sitting room. Hermione beamed as she walked around the small upper level of the house, which was to be hers. She had always detested the lack of privacy afforded in the school dormitories and relished the idea of an entire floor of her own. There was even a small sunlit room with scores of shelves for all of her books. Harry and Ron had claimed the ground level of the cottage. Although, Harry mused snidely, remembering the enthusiasm that which Hermione and Ron had kissed during the Final Battle, he wondered how long this arrangement would last. Then again, Harry was not sure that Hermione could bring herself to abandon her library on the top floor.

They would only be staying in this house for a year, however. Though all three of them were awarded honourary NEWTS, Hermione insisted that they stay close to Hogwarts to be tutored by its professors in the evenings. Professor McGonagall who was now Headmistress greatly approved of the idea, and welcomed her three former Gryffindors. Even Ron rather liked the idea. He and Harry had come to the unspoken conclusion that now that the Ministry was in competent hands, they would aim to be Aurors. It seemed the natural thing to do for both of them. Hermione was less decided and welcomed the opportunity to learn all she could in order to make her choice. Harry did not bother pretending why he was so pleased to be near Hogwarts once again. He never once missed watching Ginny in a Gryffindor math.

Professor McGonagall sighed as she looked up from her desk and out the window. She was not as young as she once was, and although her love for Hogwarts was unwavering, she did not pretend that retirement had not crossed her mind. Her eyes scanned the pink horizon and she watched the graceful sun setting across the lake. Her old eyes then fell upon a rather more beautiful sight.

"Filius, come and see this a moment."

Professor Flitwick was in the process of removing the protective enchantments from the portraits of the circular room. They were in due need of a good cleaning. He promptly lowered his wand, though at McGonagall's request.

"Yes, Minerva?"

"There, under the beech tree. Tell me, who do they look like?" She asked softly.

Professor Flitwick's expression softened as he smiled through the window.

"Why, if I didn't know better, I would say they were –"

"Lily and James." interrupted the voice of Professor Slughorn, who had just entered the office. "Goodness, the likeness is almost eerie, wouldn't you say?"

The three professors simply smiled as they spied on a man with a shock of unruly black hair and a young woman with long red hair dressed in Gryffindor quidditch robes, their arms entangled around each other.

"Miss Weasley ought to be indoors, it's nearly dark." commented the Headmistress without much conviction.

"I think we can look, the other way this once. After all she is with Harry Potter."

Ginny smiled into Harry's shoulder as he wrapped his cloak around them both against the chilly October wind. It was cold and it rustled the leaves of the beech above them, but Ginny shared Harry's warmth and they were quite cozy. She closed her eyes as Harry held her to him.

"What did you think of the new Beaters?" Ginny inquired lazily.

Harry considered for a moment before answering. "Nothing to your brothers, but they're not bad at all. The larger one swings too early though."

"I'll mention it to him." she said, but Harry wasn't listening. His lips had found hers and they both descended into a state of rather ignorant bliss. Quite ignorant enough not to notice three professors watching them, all with tender expressions on their faces.

Soon the grounds were covered in a blanket of crisp snow, and their little village resembled a picture from a Christmas card. Snow collected on the sills on the cottage's windows, and icicles hung from the eaves. The little cobblestone path leading from the gate to the entrance was kept clear of snow on most days by Harry and Ron. The days leading to Christmas were spent in a whirlwind of snowball fights and quiet nights by the fire. Ginny joined them the weekend before Christmas holiday and the four of them spent the day wandering the streets of Hogsmeade, Harry and Ron begrudgingly laden with bags of Christmas shopping while Hermione and Ginny flitted from store to store adding more to the boy's arms. Christmas at the Burrow was as spectacular as always, but no one tried to hide the hole left by the absence of Lupin and Tonks, Mad-eye and especially Fred.

Christmas day dawned bright and cold. Harry had heard the click of his door being opened and raised his head an inch, squinting into the brightness of the room. He recognized the small figure with flaming hair cascading down her back. Ginny, already dressed in her Weasley jumper tip toed across the wooden floor towards Harry's bed. She had not noticed that he was up, and Harry thought he might humour her. Ginny quietly crept on the bed and straddled what seemed to be Harry's sleeping form. She laid a sweet kiss on Harry's jaw and whispered into his ear wickedly,

"Harry Potter, _stop_ pretending to be asleep, wont you?"

Ginny gasped as Harry opened his eyes at once and maneuvered Ginny so that she was lying nearly on top of him.

"Morning, love." he said calmly.

"Oh you quick devil!" she laughed, as she laid her head on his chest. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

"You too." He replied as he shifted to kiss her. Just then though, Ron and Hermione bounded into the room their fingers entwined, their faces glowing. Ron swept aside their hasty explanations and instead lifted Hermione's left hand so that Harry and Ginny could see.

"She said yes!" Ron exclaimed, an expression of rather manic delight on his face.

"Of course she did, mate! Congratulations!" Harry embraced Ron and thumped him on the back.

"Ohhh! It looks even more beautiful on your finger, Hermione!" cried Ginny, her hands around Hermione's. It was lovely indeed. A simple silver band with a glittering oval sapphire set inside a cluster of ten tiny, gleaming pearls. Ginny laughed at Hermione's slight confusion.

"You didn't think we'd let Ron go choose one all by himself, now did you?" remarked Harry as he released Ron, and gave Hermione a warm hug as she laughed. "So have you two decided on a date?"

"Not yet," said Hermione. Her hand had found its way back into Ron's. Harry was thrilled to see his best friends so joyful finally. They were young, but it didn't matter; they had been through more together than most people endure all their lives.

"We've decided to wait. Hermione wants to get qualified first, and we're waiting until we both have secure jobs. I just thought I should claim her before someone else does" grinned Ron, looking down at his fiancé.

"Never mind that," said Ginny matter-of-factly, "The important thing is that there's time still for Hermione to see sense and change her mind!"

In a jumble of laughter, they descended the rickety staircase into the Burrow's kitchen. They had dallied in Harry's room, and the Kitchen was already filled with familiar faces, here for Christmas breakfast and opening presents. Ron stopped on the bottom step and addressed the whole room with his announcement. There was a roar of approval at his words, and Mrs. Weasley burst into tears. Ron's hand was shook by every one in the room, and Hermione was kissed by all.

"Oh I knew, I knew!" cried Mrs. Weasley as she held Hermione's face in her hands, tears streaming down her careworn face. Hermione beamed at everyone and Ron looked pleased as punch.

Harry and Ginny hung back slightly from the loving chaos and watched in amusement. Harry put his arms around Ginny, and watched from behind her shoulder the scene before them. Shifting slightly, he silently summoned something from his room. Turning Ginny around, he placed a long red velvet box into her hands.

"Merry Christmas, Love."

Ginny opened the box in her hands, and Harry saw her face light up. Inside was a charm bracelet, wrought of the finest gold Ginny had ever seen. Harry had toyed with the idea of a locket, but after the Horcruxes he was rather put off by them, and he wouldn't have been surprised if Ginny felt the same. The bracelet was lovelier than anything else Ginny owned. Dangling from the chain was a miniature snitch, its delicate wings nearly transparent, a tiny broomstick, the Gryffindor lion and crest, a heart, a rose a lock and key, and finally a small bolt of lightning. The bracelet exuded a soft golden glow that lit Ginny's face.

"Oh, Harry - - Harry, it's so beautiful." Murmured Ginny in amazement as Harry fixed the clasp around her wrist. She put her arms around him and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. It was sweet and gentle and when it was over Ginny laid her head on Harry's shoulder, still held close to him.

"I love you, Ginny."

He had waited so long to say it, and it was with tears in her eyes that Ginny returned his affection, the words tasting sweet like honey in her mouth.

"I love you too, Harry"

* * *

A.N. Well there it is :) please REVIEW if you enjoyed.


	2. The Harpy the Mermaid and the Centaur

A.N. Hello! Thank you to the people that reviewed the prologue :) It's very much appreciated, hope you conintue to read, and review! Here's Chapter 2 of From out the Golden Mist. It takes place quite some time after the prologue ends; the September after Ginny completes her final year at Hogwarts. I just want to clear up one mistake in the previous chapter: Hermione's engagement ring is a sapphire surrounded by ten tiny pearls, not a cluster of pearls surrounded by an oval sapphire (which makes so sense whatsoever). That said, here's chapter two. Hope you enjoy it :)

-TheSiilverLining

Chapter Two: The Harpy, the Mermaid and the Centaur

"OI! Would you two please get down here now? We're going to be late!" Ron twirled his wand absently as he checked his watch for the 12th time that morning. Getting impatient, he heaved himself from the Burrow's kitchen table and launched himself up the stairs.

"Right, Ginny, if you could kindly release Harry, we really have to be leaving now!" Ron bellowed as warning as he flung the door upon.

Harry and Ginny were kissing like there was no tomorrow; Harry with one hand in Ginny's hair, felt around his desk blindly for his wand with the other. Ron who stood in the doorway rolled his eyes.

"OI! Get a move on, won't you?"

"Right, right I'm coming." muttered Harry, finally breaking away from Ginny. Ron seized the opportunity and began to steer Harry away. His face still flushed from their kiss, Harry called out to Ginny, "Good luck, alright? You'll be great, I know you will; they'd be fool not to take you."

"Ginny, good luck. Bill will be along soon to take you up to Holyhead, see you tonight!" said Ron over his shoulder as he and Harry left the room.

"Thank you! Behave yourselves; it's your first day!" called Ginny at their retreating backs.

"Oh, they will." Hermione had just emerged from the room opposite, cool as cucumber amidst all the chaos. She looked very smart in robes of crisp gray with her hair swept into a bun. "Good luck Ginny!"

"HERMIONE! We're late!" hollered Ron from downstairs.

Hermione spared Ginny an amused glance before descending down the stairs. "No we're not. I lied; we're due at the Ministry at 8:30, not 8:00."

Ron's ranting was cut short as Hermione briskly steered both boys out of the house. Halfway down the dirt path they were intercepted by Mrs. Weasley, a basket of clothes from the clothes line in her arms.

"Goodness, you three are _still_ here? Won't you all be late?" cautioned Mrs. Weasley.

"No mum, there was a slight…misunderstanding about the time. We're quite early actually." said Ron, shooting Hermione a look of pure evil.

"Oh, well then. Good luck all of you." Said Mrs. Weasley as she set down the washing and kissed each of them in turn. "Harry, Ron, say hello to Kingsley for us!"

The three bade goodbye to Mrs. Weasley and continued down the dirt path and out the gate to the safe apparition point. Just like old times, Harry thought rather grimly as he took Hermione's hand and Ron took her other and then turned into the nothingness emerging at the Ministry of Magic. The lobby was filled with people carrying brief cases and wearing smart robes, hurrying towards the lifts. A few of them stopped or slowed when they noticed Harry and his friends, but for the most part, they were ignored; overlooked in the general rush of Monday morning. They stood for a moment in the Ministry Atrium gazing at the new statue that occupied the center. It was a majestic phoenix rising from gold wrought flames, its neck arched elegantly and its regal wings were outstretched. The plinth on which it stood was in the center of a glistening fountain where coins glittered at its bottom. At the base of the Phoenix, a gold plaque stood with ornate black lettering.

_And From the Ashes, We Shall Rise_

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat as Hermione squeezed his hand.

"Well," he said, matter-of-factly, "Kingsley's definitely made some good changes around since we were last here."

"We wouldn't be here if he hadn't." reassured Hermione as she took one last look at the Phoenix, drawing courage from it. "Ready?"

Ron, Harry and Hermione presented themselves at one of the front desks. A young looking witch with bronze hair attended them.

"Your names and purpose at the Ministry today, please?"

"Hermione Granger. I have an internship with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." The words glided off Hermione's tongue as if she had been saying it for years, but Harry noticed her hand shaking slightly as she accepted the pass the witch handed to her.

"Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. We're headed to the Auror Headquarters for training." said Ron, as casually as he could.

The witch handed them their passes, her eyes straying at Harry's forehead for a fraction of a second. "Fourth floor, Miss and Second Floor, Sirs. The Minister is expecting you." she added to Ron and Harry as she winked at Ron.

Ron looked rather startled as they moved away from the counter, but Hermione had been fiddling with her pass and hadn't noticed anything. The golden grilles of the lift clanged shut as they entered it. The lift was filled with all sorts of occupants who were engrossed in their own careers and had hardly noticed that three young people were just embarking on theirs. Harry noticed Hermione playing absently with her engagement ring as they descended in the lift. He had not seen her without it since the day Ron had given it to her more than eight months ago.

"Relax, will you? You're making me nervous now." Grinned Ron as he took Hermione's hand and ended her fiddling.

"This is you, Hermione." said Harry as the grilles opened and the voice in the lift announced the 4th floor. "Good luck, see later." he said warmly as he squeezed her hand.

"Bye you two! Good luck, say hello to Kingsley for me." she said after Ron had kissed her on the cheek.

Harry and Ron watched her departing figure as she left the lift. Harry leaned against the wall; only he and Ron were left in the lift.

"Well here we are." Said Ron as the grilles opened again. "Ready, mate?"

"Definitely." And Harry and Ron departed the elevator together.

-----

Hermione had resumed toying with her ring. She was sitting in a chair in front of a handsome desk. On the desk was a gold nameplate which read _Magnus L. Fittlejug: Head of House-Elf Regulation. _Mr. Fittlejug would be taking her as his intern. The thought dropped like a stone in Hermione's stomach. She had no idea what sort of person Mr. Fittlejug was, and she rather hoped that he was more sensible than his name suggested. She closed her eyes and attempted to gather her composure; Fittlejug was due to enter the office any moment. Regrettably, Hermione failed at schooling her thoughts quite miserably. All she could hear were the whispered voices of nameless others playing over in her head.

_Hermione Granger, top of every class, even helped to defeat You-Know-Who…__**such**__ a lucky girl…she's got offers from everywhere…didn't even graduate properly and she's been offered jobs left right and center. Such brains, what promise…what now? She's taken an internship? To free the House-Elves? Is she mad? What a terrible waste…_

No one had said any of this to her of course. But Hermione was not nearly obtuse enough to imagine that it hadn't been said. It was the downside of being a part of Harry Potter's life; your business tended to end up in the gossip column of Witch Weekly for all the world to discuss. Hermione took a steadying breath. She could do this… it _wasn't_ a waste. She was passionate, and the people that loved her supported her unquestioningly. Her parents and friends could have easily decided she was throwing away her life, could've tried desperately to talk her out of it. But they had stood by her choice, promising to help her in any way possible. Smiling to herself, Hermione remembered that it was Ron's father who had kept an eye out for any openings in Magical Creatures that Hermione might be interested in. She wished that he wasn't away on business this week, it would've been nice to have a friendly face around.

After a few minutes, she stood suddenly as a man entered the office. Mr. Fittlejug was middle age, thickset and wore heavy glasses that had slid down his nose. He seemed quite surprised to see someone in his office, as he surveyed Hermione from above his glasses.

"I'm – My name is Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you Mr. Fittlejug, I'm your new intern." She said as brightly as she could. No amount of brightness in her voice however could make Hermione miss the way Fittlejug's eyes had come to rest directly upon her chest. With great difficulty, Hermione restrained herself from rolling her eyes in disgust.

"Yes, erm…Deliver this to Miss Hawthorne and return here immediately." said Fittlejug with ill grace without removing his eyes from Hermione's person. Hermione took the stack of files that he shoved into her arms. In mild shock she opened her mouth to ask who on earth Miss Hawthorne was and where could she be found, but closed it again. Fittlejug had returned to his desk and disappeared behind the Daily Prophet, stealing glances at Hermione's chest from behind his paper.

Hermione covered her front with the files and turned to leave. As she walked out the door, she engrossed herself with the files, looking for clues as to who Miss Hawthorne might be. In one of her characteristic states of concentration, she walked headlong into a solid wall of person. Her files went flying to the ground.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I wasn't staring – I mean I wasn't looking. Oh, what a mess - accio!" commanded Hermione and the files flew back into her arms.

"Not to worry. You must be Juggy's new intern." The woman was large with heavy features and dark hair. She smiled at Hermione, as she dusted herself off. "Is there someone that you're looking for, dear?"

"Yes, thank you. Miss Hawthorne, please." replied Hermione in relief.

"Not a problem, I'll take you; I'm going that way anyways. My name is Gwendel, by the way."

"Hermione Granger."

"Oh, I know, dear." Gwendel smiled at her kindly. "I've read about you."

Hermione flushed and didn't know what to say. It was true; her name and picture had appeared countless times beside Harry's in all manners of publications. She just hoped that it was not Rita Skeeter that Gwendel had read.

"Here we are." announced Gwendel as she led Hermione to an office just around the corner.

The door was more ornate than the ones she had seen so far, and on a little gold nameplate she read:_ Gwendel Hawthorne: Department Head of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures._

Hermione looked from the plaque on the door, to the lady now standing in the office. For the second time that day, Hermione was at a loss for words, and she was quite sure she didn't like the feeling.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear. I know I should've told you, but you just looked so flustered after your first run in with old Juggy. Don't worry about that, though. Come in, and have a seat!"

"Your files, Miss Hawthorne." Said Hermione as composedly as she could, handing over the stack.

"Oh these," said Gwendel, opening the top one, "Juggy knows I don't need these till next week. Oh well, I suppose he sent you out with them so he could get a good look at your behind. Either way, saves me the trouble of calling for you."

Hermione was now very, very confused, but she followed orders and sat in the chair opposite from Gwendel's desk. Sensing Hermione's temporary incapacity for speech, Gwendel plunged on.

"When I said I had read about you, I of course meant in Professor Dumbledore's letter." Hermione eyes widened at her former Headmaster's name. "Shortly before he died, he wrote to me that a student of his would likely find herself drawn to my department. I owed Albus a favour you see, so I gave him my word that I would do what I could for you. Unfortunately Fittlejug is the best I can offer for now; Albus mentioned that you were particularly interested in House-Elf regulation.

"I – Professor Dumbledore…wrote to you about me?" stammered Hermione.

"Oh yes," replied Gwendel brightly, "He said you would be a marvelous asset to the Department. Young, Bright and Hardworking. He said you have some very interesting ideas."

Miss Hawthorne waved her wand, and a tea tray appeared between them. "I think I'd like very much to hear about this S.P.E.W. foundation." She said as she poured the tea.

There was a rather pregnant silence as Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. She was glad she hadn't yet received her tea. She was quite sure that if she had, she would've dropped it by now.

-----

"There she is. Hermione! Hermione, over here!" Harry called out to her as he and Ron caught up with her.

People around the Atrium started and some even pointed as Hermione rushed towards them, positively beaming.

"How was it?" she addressed both of them as she pecked Ron on the cheek.

"Brilliant!" Ron answered. "Let's get home though; we'll talk on the way. I'm dying to find out how Ginny's trials went."

They left the Ministry together, chatting about how wonderful their first days had been. Harry and Ron took turns explaining the Auror Headquarters to her. Kingsley had been there personally to give them a tour. He introduced Harry and Ron to all of their instructors they would have for the next three years.

"Can you believe, Hermione? Harry and I are going to be _aurors_!" said Ron with glee.

Hermione started telling the boys about Miss Hawthorne as they stood in line to apparate out of the Ministry.

"The head of the Department! She listened to all my ideas about S.P.E.W.! And she didn't think I was mad, either!"

"Hermione that's wonderful! See? Even Dumbledore has faith in you." said Harry as they emerged at the end of the dirt lane leading to the Burrow.

They continued walking down the lane as Hermione finished telling them about her day. "Oh yes, there's also my boss Fittlejug, bit of a character, he is." she said with a slight edge in her voice.

"_What?"_ yelped Ron. "Fiddles Jugs is your boss? But I thought he was in Magical Transportation!"

"No, apparently not." said Hermione through laughter. "Don't worry about it though, Ron. As long as I get his paperwork done, he lets me assist Ms. Hawthorne. I hardly stay long in enough in his office for him to … fiddle anything."

"Good." muttered Ron fervently as he pushed open the gate. As soon as they passed around the hedge they were interrupted by a loud clash as a red haired person tore out of the house straight for them.

"I'M A HARPY! I'M A HOLYHEAD HARPY!" Ginny screamed as she launched herself into Harry's arms. Laughing, Harry caught her and swung her around.

Ron gave a whoop of excitement as he gave his sister a hug after Harry had released her. Ginny looked beyond ecstatic. It had been her dream to play for the Holyhead Harpies since she was old enough to watch her older brothers zooming around on their brooms above the paddock. Ginny made it through the preliminary trials the week before, and Harry and Ron and the other Weasleys that came and went from The Burrow had been helping her practice and prepare for the final trial for her favourite team.

Everyone congratulated Ginny as her hand found her way into Harry's, a wide grin lighting her face.

"Wow, Ginny…Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies. That's amazing!" said Harry as they made their way into The Burrow.

"Reserve Chaser." Corrected Ginny, still smiling happily. "Come on, Mum's been waiting for you three. And I want to hear all about how your first day went!

And so, they all sat at the kitchen table with Mrs. Weasley, sipping their tea and chatting excitedly. When they were done, Mrs. Weasley left to water her garden and eventually, Hermione left to write a letter to her parents, Ron trailing behind her up the staircase. Harry and Ginny settled in the sitting room on the couch for a second up of tea. Ginny curled up against Harry, and he ran a hand through her hair.

"I'm so proud of you." He said quietly to her. "You're going to be amazing."

Harry felt the day's tension release from her body, as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm proud of you too, Harry. I'm not surprised though, I always knew you would be an auror."

'Well I'm not quite there yet," said Harry, with a slight frown. "Three years training and one year practical experience; it's a long way to go still."

"You'll make it, I know you will." She sounded so sure, so confident; Harry's heart leapt a little.

-----

The week went by quickly. Ginny apparated to Holyhead and returned by the time Harry, Ron and Hermione came back from the Ministry every day. Harry was itching to watch one of Ginny's practices, but he was required to be at the Ministry daily for training. It was with more trepidation than amusement that Ron pointed out that they no long had Hermione breathing down their necks, watching to see that they finished their homework properly. They were on their own. Hermione on the other hand was greatly inspired by Hawthorne and had devised several clever means of escaping Fiddles Jugs' less than subtle infatuation with her breasts. Her boss aside, she was more than happy with her new position.

Finally Saturday night came and Ron suggested that they go out to celebrate. It was decided that they would apparate up to Hogsmeade and visit Hagrid before heading to the Three Broomsticks for some drinks. Hagrid was overjoyed to see his four former students. He got rather emotional as he told them all how proud he was that they were making something of themselves. Blowing his nose on his tablecloth sized handkerchief, he waved goodbye to them and warned them not to stay out too late.

The Three Broomsticks was as welcoming as always, and they were pleased to see several old Hogwarts students, celebrating their first weeks in the grown-up world. It was wild in the pub, with unfettered laughter ringing throughout. The lamps seemed to burn brighter the longer they stayed. At the end of the night Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all drunk to varying degrees. Harry and Ron, who were considerably more sober than the girls watched in amusement as they sang a song, in varying keys about a mermaid that fell in love with a centaur, never once hitting a right note. The pub applauded wildly as they finished, all of them rather drunk. Harry thought the girls looked very pretty, the both of them with their flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

"Think we should get them home?" asked Ron, as Hermione and Ginny, holding hands wended their way back towards the boys.

Hermione, who was notoriously bad at holding down her liquor staggered towards Ron, and promptly collapsed into his arms.

"Yeah." answered Harry, catching Ginny's hand as she tried to make towards the bar again.

He and Ron managed to get Ginny and Hermione, staggering and still singing out of the pub and into the brisk September night. Ron, half carrying Hermione, and Harry, his arms firmly around Ginny apparated back to the dirt road leading to the Burrow.

"I'm a mermaid, Ron! And you're my centaur!" Hermione exclaimed as Ron, checked her pocket to make sure her wand was still there. Drunken Hermione, wielding a wand was definitely not a good thing, but even worse was drunken Ginny with a wand.

"Yes, yes, I'm your centaur. I'm going to have to carry you home it looks like." Ron knelt and Hermione got on, piggy back style.

"But Won-Won, centaurs don't like carry humans being." Hermione pointed out frowning slightly.

Ron marveled at Hermione's ability to reason even at her most impaired state of mind.

"Well, that's not a problem, you're a mermaid, remember?"

"Oh, ok." She said as she laid her head against Ron's.

"Ha!" said Harry tipsily, "My girlfriend holds her liquor better than yours does, Won-Won."

Ginny was still able to walk upright, although certainly not in a straight line. Harry guided her down the road as she hummed the mermaid song.

"Not, by much." Remarked Ron as Ginny attempted to set off in completely the wrong direction. She had taken off her shoes, and was carrying them in her hand. Harry couldn't help but notice how small she looked without her heels.

They entered the burrow as quietly as they could, trying not to wake up Ron's Mum and Dad who had returned from his business trip that afternoon. Ron had gone to deposit Hermione in her bed and Harry was leading Ginny into her room.

"This is going to be some hangover tomorrow, isn't it?" Ginny slurred.

"Probably, yes." Harry mused. Ginny had changed into her pajamas and was getting into bed. Harry pulled the blankets over her and tucked her in.

"Can you stay until I fall asleep please?"

Harry looked into her large brown eyes fringed with thick lashes. "Course I will." He said and tucked an errant lock of flaming hair behind her ear.

Harry lay on top of Ginny's covers and held her close. Ginny closed her eyes, sleep beginning to claim her, but Harry was still awake. In the darkness, Harry could just make out the bracelet of gold that glinted against Ginny's creamy white wrist. Her breathing had slowed and steadied, sleep taking over. Gently Harry laid a kiss on the inside of her wrist and disengaged himself from her. He tiptoed to the door, and closed it behind him, taking one last look at his girlfriend's sleeping form.

A.N. Hope you enjoyed it :) Thanks for reading, review if you liked it!

-SiilverLining


	3. The Happy Beginning

A.N. Heylo everyone. Thanks again for your reviews, much appreciated!

Peppax - Thanks! I do intend on writing the wedding, hope you won't be dissapointed!

VGJunky158 - Thanks, keep readingg :)

Dueler312 - ditto :)

Phoenix Fanatic - Glad you liked Fittlejug! I'm trying my best to keep everything true to the original timeline, thanks for your reviews, hope you keep reading

Blue Nariko - Glad you liked it!

TessieIII - Thanks so much! Its down to JK though, for creating such amazing characters and such a wonderful story. Glad you liked the story so far!

Miabella - (note to other readers: miabella is my wonderful yet slightly wayward friend. Jj, shes not insane, although she does a pretty good impression of it :D) I'm pretty even when your NOT drunk, dear. You better keep reading :)

And now on the the story. This is Chapter Three of The Golden Mist. Once again, it takes place a few months after the last chapter, when Harry and Ron complete their first Auror exam.

Chapter Three: The Happy Beginning

Ginny's first impressions were purely sensory. She was cold, and lying on an even colder marble floor. She hurt everywhere, a dull aching hurt that reached her fingertips and toes. Ginny forced her eyes to open; it took a moment for her to adjust to the dim light. A whine of panic grew inside of her when she realized she didn't have the strength to lift her head. Forcing herself to keep breathing, she took in what she could of her surroundings. The room was huge and damp. There was a great stone statue that spanned the entire height of the vast hall; its face was old and monkey-like with a beard that fell to the hem of his robes.

Suddenly her vision was impeded by a figure. It was a boy, older than her; tall and handsome. He was blurred around the edges, and Ginny's first impression was that he was an angel. Her mind was working at an irritatingly slow pace at present. The boy was wearing Hogwarts robes; Slytherin. It clicked finally when Ginny realized that the boy was holding her beloved diary.

"Tom. Tom Riddle?"

"Ginny Weasley." He acknowledged, an odd edge to his voice.

"Oh Tom, thank God you're here. Please, Tom, you have to help me. I don't know what's happening, I can't move. Where are we?"

"Little Ginny…" there was definitely a mocking tone in his voice now, "haven't you guessed already? This is the Chamber of Secrets."

Ginny closed her eyes; something was not making sense. "How did we get here, Tom? What's happening?"

Tom Riddle laughed then; a high and cold laugh that sent Ginny's body into shudders. He crouched down and laced his fingers through her hair, his strong hand dragging her face up to meet his. Ginny looked into his handsome cold eyes and the whine of panic in her escalated.

"You should be thanking me. I've given you a chance to see whether Potter returns your affections. If he _loves_ you back, he will come for you. And then you will die; die knowing that he loved you. You will die knowing his love is not enough to protect you, silly little girl."

Ginny forced herself to keep looking into his hollow dark eyes. What had she done? Before she could say another word Tom threw her back to the ground. She waited for her body to hit the stone but she kept falling. She was going to die.

"Ginny? Ginny!" a voice was calling her from far away. _Let it end_, she thought desperately.

-----

It was like surfacing for a breath of air; like dungeon walls crumbling to reveal sunlight. In a great shuddering gasp Ginny opened her eyes. Harry's face swam into focus in the dim light above her. She felt his warm hands on her shoulders, holding her upright in her bed. Ginny looked into Harry's eyes, nearly expecting to find Riddle's coldness there.

Ginny cried then, in relief, in fear, in every emotion she had ever felt. It came tumbling upon her and it was too much to fight, too much for her to bear. She pulled herself out of Harry's grip and clutched at her pillow on the bed. Her tears came fast and steady, her body wracked with sobs and shaking. No, _no_. She had made a promise…she had vowed never to again. She couldn't stop. Pulling her knees towards her, she bit down on the pillow to stifle her crying. Harry gently pried her hands from the pillow and pulled her to him, his arms coming around her to hold her tight. She didn't want him to see this. Already Harry bore too much guilt, she had never meant for him to know. His arms stayed around her until she had cried herself out. Steadying her with one hand, Harry produced a glass of water with his wand and handed it to her. Ginny drank the whole glass.

"That was Riddle, wasn't it?"

Ginny nodded. Her tears had returned, but they were quieter, she could control them.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping at her face. "I'm sorry. I know you're frightened of girls crying."

Harry caught her hand in his, frowning slightly. He stared down at the charm bracelet.

"Other things frighten me more. It frightens me much more that I can't make him go away. I didn't know you had dreams about him." He finished quietly.

Ginny looked down into the empty glass. "I haven't since you killed him. I- I'm sorry. I thought they were gone; I didn't want you to know, Harry." Ginny looked into Harry's eyes and saw hurt there.

"Harry, no! Not like that, I mean. It's just… after you finished him, I made a promise. I promised that I would never cry because of him again…" She had to make him understand that she didn't mean to push him away.

Harry looked and Ginny's face in the dim light of her room. He saw her eleven years old again, her wide innocent eyes begging him to understand her. He was angry then. Angry that Riddle had taken her innocence from her. Ginny had been the first victim; it was not often reckoned the amount of damaged inflicted upon her. Riddle had taken her heart and wrapped her around his finger.

"I'm sorry." said Harry, his head bowed. Really, truly, he wished he could do better for her. "I wish I could make him leave."

"You do, though, Harry." She sniffed, trying to master herself. "Every day I spend with you is like a little bit undone. I haven't dreamed of Riddle in nearly two years. He can't hurt us anymore, he's gone." Ginny put her arms around Harry, resting her head on his chest. She was _safe_ here, and it felt so right.

Harry held her close and let himself believe for a moment that he could stay like this forever. Her nightgown was soaked through with sweat and tears and stuck to Harry's bare chest.

"I'm sorry for waking you up." She said quietly, shifting to look into his eyes.

"Not your fault. I was up anyways; couldn't sleep. I just - I thought that I would check in on you. You didn't start thrashing around until I came in, actually." Harry answered.

How had he known? How did he know to come when she needed him? Ginny loved him so much right then that it hurt inside.

"I love you, Harry."

"I love you too, always." Harry replied wiping away a single tear that fell down Ginny's cheek.

She got up then, and moved toward the open window. She was exhausted but not in the kind of way that sleeping could fix.

"Shall we go for a broom ride?" asked Harry. He had moved to stand behind her at the window, his hands resting on her narrow shoulders.

"Yeah," said Ginny smiling as she turned to face him. "I'd like that."

So they went, hands entwined, to get Harry's broom. The June air was cool and crisp and erased the last of Ginny's tears. Harry let her steer the broom, his hands gripping her about the waist. Flying had once been a way for Harry to run away from all of his troubles. In the air, he felt that his fears stayed on the ground and that he was free; he hoped Ginny found that same freedom. He daresay she had; he felt her body relax as the wind blew against them as they dived. Her face was calm and serene as she guided them down on a hilltop. The sun was just peeking over the horizon in the East as they sat on the hill to watch it rise.

-----

Later that day, Harry sat alone on the porch of the Burrow, lost in thought as he watched the late afternoon sun sink lower. He remembered being eleven years old, sneaking out to duel Draco Malfoy. He remembered the feeling of desperation as a mountain troll cornered Hermione as well as if it had been yesterday. He recalled Voldemort's twisted face at the back of Quirrel's head. At least he had had Ron and Hermione. Harry tried to imagine Ginny's first year at Hogwarts. He pictured her tiny little frame dressed in shabby second hand robes, her flaming red hair and her freckled face, all eyes. He could picture easily this little Ginny writing all her pain into a diary, and he could picture her delight when it wrote back to her. Harry wished he could go back, and fix things earlier; it was not fair that she had been alone that year, with only Tom Riddle to confide in.

"Harry?" a voice interrupted his musing. "Have you seen Ron, anywhere?" asked Hermione.

"He went out somewhere with George. Sit with me?" Harry asked, patting the space next to him.

Hermione summoned two bottles of chilled pumpkin juice from the kitchen and sat on the porch facing Harry.

"Everything alright?" he asked her.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She answered, smiling genuinely at him. "You look tired, Harry." She said quietly as she drew up her knees, wrapping her arms around them.

"That was some exam." He said smiling wryly. "There's no way Ron or I could've gotten through without your help."

The day before, Ron and Harry had written their Year One exam for auror training. Hermione had put aside her own work to help both of them with the theory, drilling them on spells, combat tactics and protocol. She couldn't help them too much in the practical section of the exam, however. Ron and Harry were on their own for this part, and for a fortnight up till the exam they could be seen hurling jinxes at each other, practicing blocking and hexing in the orchard daily. When it was all over, Harry was bone tired. Although their official results had not arrived, he felt a sort of grim satisfaction when Kingsley assured both him and Ron that they had passed. One step closer.

Hermione smiled at Harry. "I'm glad I could help, Harry, I'm so proud of you and Ron."

Harry smiled back at her, and took her hand in his. "I feel bad that we took so much of your time."

"It's alright, I more than managed." She replied.

Hermione had steadily been chipping away at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She had earned herself a flawless reputation for efficient work.

"How's Fiddles Jugs? He's not giving you any trouble, is he? asked Harry, surveying Hermione over his juice.

"No, no trouble." She answered happily.

"Good. Because if he is, Ron's been dying to try out his Muggle Dueling on someone." Harry said.

Hermione laughed, but Harry only continued to regard her. It bothered him as much as it did Ron that Hermione was being womanized by her boss.

"You know, if you're afraid that Ron might get a little too excited with him, I'll talk to Fiddly myself." he said to her.

Hermione only smiled. "No, Harry, really. I'm quite fine. I think he's afraid of you and Ron, he hardly stares anymore. Thank you though. How nice it is to know that I have two aurors watching by back."

Harry joined Hermione laughing this time. He looked down at her hand, which he still held. Her engagement ring glittered on her fourth finger in the darkening light. He was happy for her more than he could say. She deserved only good things after what she had been through; both her and Ron.

"So, are you going to tell me what's been bothering you?" she asked pointedly. Harry smiled vaguely at her as she now surveyed him.

"Really, Harry. You forget how well I know you. You've had that expression on your face all day. What is it that's upsetting you?"

"Do you ever have dreams about Voldemort?" Harry asked her quietly. He registered Hermione fleeting surprise through the dim light.

"Twice," she said, equally quiet. "Well not of him. Once I dreamt of Bellatrix. I dreamt I was back at Malfoy's manor…and she was hurting me."

"And the other?" Harry asked, looking into her brown eyes.

Hermione steeled herself for a moment. "I dreamt that Ron didn't come back."

Harry knew without asking which of the two had been most frightening to her.

"Are you having dreams, Harry?" she asked in a small voice, her brown eyes reflecting pain.

"No." he answered firmly. "I just wondered, that's all." Ginny's dreams were not his to share, not even with Hermione.

There was a silence as Harry felt Hermione hesitate once again.

"Don't look back, Harry. Its over, he's gone." Hermione said, taking Harry's other hand in hers. "After all we've been through – All that you've been through…don't you see, Harry? This is the happy ending."

She was right, Ginny was right too. He was glad they had spoken. Hermione had a knack for putting things in perspective, for making things easy and clear for him. He smiled at her as she squeezed his hands. Collecting their empty juice bottles, Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek and stood to leave.

"Thank you." He called at her retreating figure.

Harry remained outside, watching the sun sinking lower. Ron and George returned from the joke shop, clutching bags of unreleased merchandise that were begging to be tested on unsuspecting victims. Harry made a mental note to watch himself for the next couple of days as Ron and George entered the house with looks of fiendish glee lighting their faces. Harry had just stood up to leave when an official looking owl landed on the doorstep. Retrieving the letter, Harry watched as the owl turned tail and flew into the darkness. Though it was addressed to Ginny, Harry recognized the green ink and gold seal to be from the Harpies.

"Ginny!" Harry called as he entered the house.

"Up here!" she answered from her room.

"Here," Harry said, handing her the letter. "from the team." Harry turned and went back down the stairs into the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley was busy over the stove.

Harry was halfway through setting the dinner table when Ginny, her face white, emerged down the stairs, the letter clutched in her hand.

"What? What's wrong, Ginny?" Harry asked as he made towards her.

"I – Ainslie Ouellette is pregnant."

"Who? Oi, Ginny, your blocking." said Ron, who had just appeared on the stairs with Hermione.

"Ainslie Ouellette? Wait, isn't that your Chaser?" asked Harry. "Which means -"

"Ron, give it back to her!" exclaimed Hermione as Ron tore the letter out of Ginny's hands.

"Miss Ginny Weasley, we are pleased to inform you that you will be replacing Ainslie Ouellette, during her leave of maternity, as Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies as of next September. Enclosed is the summer schedule for First String Practices, of which you are now required to be present at." Read Ron out loud from the letter.

There was a short silence as Harry and Ron gaped at each other over Ginny's head, and then the little stairwell erupted with enough noise to shake the whole house. Ginny snapped out of her initial shock and threw her arms around Harry who received her so enthusiastically she was lifted clean off her feet.

"_Don't you see Harry, This is the happy ending" _Hermione's voice echoed through Harry's head as they all stumbled into the kitchen, giddy with delight. This is the happy ending. No, Harry thought to himself, as they all sat down at the table. _This is the happy beginning. _

A.N. Hope you enjoyed, reviews always appreciated :D (anonymus reviews now excepted mainly because my friend claims shes too lazy to log in.)


	4. Perfect as They Were

A.N. Hey everyone :D Thanks for your lovely reviews

Phoenix Fanatic – Thanks! I really hope it goes all the way; it's what I'm planning.

SILVERTEMPLAR – Glad you like it! I do plan on continuing, hope you keep reading

VGJunky 185 – Aww thank you for such nice praise, I hope you enjoy the rest :)

Anyways, on to Chapter 4. This takes place the September following the last chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Four: Perfect as They Were

Hermione sat facing the window, the September day glorious before her. Her window desk was littered with sheaves of parchment stacked into piles, quills and ink. Hermione sighed inwardly as she confronted the mountain of work before her. Vehement believer in anti-procrastination though she was, she was unsettled today, and balked at the idea of spending anymore time hovering over her boss's paperwork. Today was the first of September. She smiled as she pictured the gaggle of eleven year old wizards and witches wending their way towards Hogwarts on the Express at that very moment. Part of her wished she could return there once again; she had found so much at Hogwarts that she had never known before. An entirely new world was opened to her when she went, feeding her insatiable desire for knowledge. With her eyes closed, she could clearly picture the sweeping grounds before her. It was all so close and yet so far. Returning slowly to reality, Hermione opened her eyes and shifted her gaze out the window, desperate from something to distract her from the heaps of work waiting to be completed. The Weasley's yard beckoned to her through the window pane and she found her dark eyes lingering with longing over the hammock that was slung between two trees near the pond.

As if to break her resolve even more, there was a soft knock at her door. Hermione could tell without looking that it was Ron, and she busied herself over her work to hide her tender expression.

"Come in."

Ron walked into her little bedroom and strolled over to where Hermione was scratching away at the parchment. He put his hands on her shoulders and peered over her head at the piles of parchment on her desk.

"Come outside with me, Hermione. You need to take a break; you've been at this _all day_ now." Said Ron in a tone that suggested spending all day working was an act of utmost indecency.

"Hello to you too." Replied Hermione as briskly as she could. Ron was not deceived however. Though she kept writing, she reached up with her left hand and took Ron's hand in hers.

"Aww…Come on then." said Ron from above her as he gently pried the quill out of her hand. A subconscious part of Hermione knew what was coming and privately rather welcomed it.

Ron laid a sweet kiss on the inside of Hermione's wrist and with infinite gentleness continued up the inside of her arm.

"Please, Hermione?" he murmured between kisses. "Please, please, please?"

Ron changed tactics; his lips hovering near Hermione's ear, he tucked a stray lock of her away and whispered, "Come away from this with me, won't you?"

Before Hermione could answer though, Ron kissed her a little below the ear. He knew that did it; she was sensitive there. Oh, he was good. No; this paperwork…it had to be done. But God knows she had missed him during those six weeks of Auror training. With indrawn breath, Hermione shifted her head to allow Ron better access to her creamy skin. Half formed thoughts chased each other around in Hermione's otherwise blissfully blank mind. Where on earth had Ron learned to be so…persuasive? A smile hovering around his mouth, Ron gave her one last kiss, sweet and gentle before he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Wherever he had picked it up, it was highly effective. Ron led Hermione out of the room, and she went quietly, aching for more. _Victory, _thought Ron, happily to himself as he and Hermione emerged into the late afternoon sunlight, their hands joined.

-----

Ginny was lost in a sea of green. The grassy knoll they sat on was green, the nearby trees were green, but it was in the all consuming green of Harry's eyes that she had lost her self, her soul; whatever it was that made her heart beat fast. They sat across from each other, each with their heads bent over their brooms. At Hogwarts, it had been a practice of Ginny's to see to it that her broomstick was in perfect condition before every quidditch match. Now, on the eve of her first ever professional game, it only made sense to continue the tradition. Figuring she could use the company, Harry decided to do the same; and so they sat, working on their brooms. Harry, assuming it was down to nerves, noted that Ginny had been quite surprisingly silent for a time now.

Ginny, though, had forgotten to be nervous. She rubbed the cloth dabbed in broom polish down the length of her top of the line Thunderstar, stealing glances at Harry and feeling that she was twelve years old again. What was the matter with her? She couldn't take her eyes off him lately; since he had come back from training camp, specifically. It had been harder on her than she reckoned; spending six weeks away from Harry, not even allowed letters. He had returned with Ron a few days earlier, and Ginny, right away noticed the difference in him. Since Harry had been eleven years old, people of wisdom could see his potential as one of the most powerful wizards of this generation, even in all history. Harry had always managed to brush it aside, putting it down to luck, nerve or accident. And in truth, most of it was. Powerful though he was, Harry had little idea what to do with it. A full year of Auror training, however, had changed that. Now a third of the way through, Harry had been taught to use his power, to harness it and direct it. In many people, this knowledge might've come with a note of arrogance but for Harry it was not so. It came instead with a quiet confidence that suffused into his every movement, his every action and thought.

Ginny was not thick enough to think that all this had happened in a mere six weeks; no, of a surety it had been a slow change. Simply, it had taken a month and a half apart for Ginny to see the difference, to realize it fully. Gone was the short and skinny boy who stole her heart; replaced by a tall, broad shouldered man who owned it. She embraced it now with wonder, questioning how she had missed it before.

"Nervous?" Harry asked her, a slow smile playing across his face as he looked up at her from behind his hair.

"Yes." Ginny whispered, barely paying attention to the question. She was entranced by Harry's hands. He had a deft touch, and Ginny was drawn by the sureness and strength that they moved with. Was it possible to fall in love twice? Surely; she just had. Ginny wanted to feel those hands in her hair. She wanted them to pin her to the grass and hold her there forever while she looked up into Harry's eyes, losing the best of herself in them. How odd, thought Ginny, stepping outside of herself for a moment. Here she was, the day before the opening match of her first season as official chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, and all she could think of was running her hands through Harry's hair, and feeling his lips on hers. And then a strange thought at once odd and evil dropped into her mind. _Harry Potter doesn't need you. What could he ever see in you, Ginny Weasley? The Boy Who Lived knows what he's about now, and he knows he can do better. _

The voice was interrupted, however. Harry had taken her broom out of her hands, placing it beside her. He cupped Ginny's face in his hands and kissed her then. Slow and steady, with the same sureness that his hands worked with. Ginny closed her eyes at it and accepted all that he gave. She was sick with wanting. Oh she wanted; she wanted his hands on her. She wanted Harry above her, and the ground beneath her. Ginny wound one hand into Harry's hair, the other resting on his chest. Without parting from Ginny's lips, Harry lowered her body to the ground, his hand coming between her head and the grass, cushioning her. Bracing himself with his hands on either side of her, Harry deepened the kiss. Ginny was lost, lost in the wonder of it all. Both of her arms were wrapped around Harry's neck. It felt so right, it was like a homecoming.

Wishing that she could stay like this forever, Ginny let out a tiny moan of protest as Harry pulled away from her, and came to lie beside her on the grassy hill. His breathing steadied as he asked,

"Still nervous?"

Ginny pulled herself into a sitting position, eyes resting on their abandoned brooms. "Will you do that again if I say yes?"

Laughing as he stood, Harry extended his hand to Ginny and pulled her up in one fluid motion. Ginny kept her hand in Harry's; his warm fingers made her feel safe. They were winding their way back to the Burrow, each with a broom in hand when a shrill scream was heard in the distance behind them. Harry whipped around, his wand steady in his grip. Another scream was heard, this time mingled with gleeful laughter. Ginny felt Harry's whole body relax as they spied Hermione and Ron by the pond; both of them laughing, Hermione crying out with mirth. Ron had his back to them, but appeared to be carrying Hermione; one had supporting her back, the other underneath her knees. All they could see of Hermione was her arms around Ron's neck, and her bare feet kicking as Ron appeared to be threatening to drop her in the pond.

"Ron Weasley! Don't you dare, I'm wearing white!" they heard her crying between fits of laughter.

"What do you suppose they're up to?" Ginny asked, a tone of affection in her voice.

"Something no good, undoubtedly." replied Harry, equally amused.

------

"Ginny, Ginny!" called Hermione from behind Harry and Ginny as they made their way back to the house. They slowed so that she could catch up to them. Harry felt an unexpected surge of fondness for both girls as they began to chat animatedly about Ginny's upcoming match, Hermione still flushed from the revelry with Ron. Harry hung back to allow Ron a chance to join him.

"How'd you manage to get her to desert her work?" he asked Ron, grinning as he motioned toward Hermione who was walking a few meters ahead of them with Ginny.

"Gah, it was easy; Persuasive Tactics Four and Seven."

"Ahhh, nice one." said Harry, affectionately picturing their book of gold: _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_.

-----

"Nervous?" Hermione asked Ginny, as they made their way towards the house.

Ginny contemplated, remembering Harry's lips forming the word and the bliss that had followed. Perhaps it had been Harry's goal from the beginning (he was clever like that), but Ginny couldn't imagine ever associating the word "nervous" with anything but giddy delight here after.

"No, not anymore." replied Ginny, smiling vaguely.

"I see." said Hermione bemusedly.

"We saw Ron dangling you over the pond," said Ginny grinning now. "What was that all about?"

"Oh that," said Hermione shaking her head. "He was going to throw me in if I didn't promise to abandon my paperwork tonight."

Ginny laughed out loud, "Well done, Ron." She said to no one in particular. They entered the house to the enticing aromas of Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking.

"Oh hello dears," said Mrs. Weasley as they entered. "Arthur will be home any minute, and then we'll have supper. Go on up, I'll have the boys set the table today."

"I want to ask you something, Hermione." whispered Ginny, pulling Hermione into her room and shutting the door after they were out of earshot of Mrs. Weasley. Hermione looked startled, but followed Ginny.

Sighing, Ginny pushed back her hair and said, "I've been feeling – I mean, Harry just, he's changed a lot, hasn't he?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows slightly, "Well, if you mean he's got a body on him now, then yeah I suppose he has."

"No," said Ginny, startled, trying to remember why she was having this conversation again, "Not like that, well yes, like that. That too, but don't you think he's changed in other ways? I mean now…he's so…sure of himself now." she finished quietly.

Hermione pictured Harry, the brother she had never had, in her mind's eye. She had known Harry the whole way through. She had watched him confront his every weakness and push through it. He had done the same this past year, applying his whole self to the training. Looking, into Ginny's eyes though, she thought she understood.

"And your not, Ginny?" she asked kindly. "You've got nothing to be intimidated by. There's no reason for you to lack confidence… besides, Harry's mad over you."

"It's just, unexpected sometimes, you know. He took me by surprise today…I mean, I'm not complaining. Doesn't that ever happen with you and Ron?" Ginny finished meekly.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and pictured Ron's lips at her collarbone, his strong arms holding her above the pond. "Are you kidding?" asked Hermione, opening her eyes.

"Your brother is the most absurdly surprising person I've ever met. Who could've thought…Ron Weasley: teaspoon of tact, could turn out to be so…" Hermione trailed off, a glow rising in her face.

"GIRLS – dinner!" cried Mrs. Weasley from downstairs.

"They both turned out quite nicely, didn't they?" mused Ginny as they descended down the stairs.

Hermione smiled vaguely, "Don't you like it?"

"Like what?" asked Ron as they sat down at the table.

"Never you mind." Replied Hermione, although unable to keep the note of affection out of her voice as they helped themselves to Mrs. Weasley's delicious dinner.

------

Ginny descended the stairs the next day in a rush of self consciousness and nerves, peering into a small compact and applying lipstick as she went. Someone at the kitchen table wolf whistled as Ginny came into view, and she snapped her mirror shut to see which of her brothers was stupid enough try her patience on a day like this.

"Harry!" she cried irritably.

"Sorry, sorry." he said, lifting his hands in surrender as he stood. "Its just you look so pretty in that." He murmured innocently.

Ginny felt her annoyance and edginess fade as Harry crossed over to her and kissed her cheek. With a swoop of excitement and anxiety, Ginny noticed that Harry was wearing her colours. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Ginny smiled into Harry's shoulder. "Thanks."

The Holyhead Harpies, being the only all-witch quidditch club, were often said to have the best uniforms in the league. Unlike most teams who wore loose fitting robes, the Harpies wore robes of the deepest green with a fitted bodice that laced in the front with gold ribbon. The robes, which flared from the hip, went over close-fitting black quidditch pants. Leather guards covered from feet to mid thigh and leather gloves were worn with forearm guards.

Ginny, like some of her teammates thought it was ridiculous that they were expected to play quidditch dressed like fair maidens with leather strapped to them, but she had little cause to complain; cunning charms had been cast on the uniform to allow full range of movement and they were quite comfortable. Long-time members of the team assured Ginny that no one thought any less of them because of the uniforms, and now with Harry's vehement approval, Ginny was growing more confident in it.

"Can you breathe properly in that?" Harry asked her, chuckling softly as he put his hands on her waist.

"It only looks tight." Answered Ginny wryly. "Morning, you two!" said she over Harry's shoulder at Ron and Hermione who were entering the kitchen. Ron, like Harry, was also wearing dark green, and Hermione was pulling on green gloves and wore a green and gold rosette.

"Morning!" they chorused back.

"Everyone ready to go?" asked Mr. Weasley, high face alight with excitement as he emerged from the other room with Mrs. Weasley. "Got your broom, Ginny?" he said, his eyes twinkling at his only daughter.

"Yes, Dad. Everyone's ready, lets go!"

The people she loved, dressed in her team colours and laughing all around her helped to ease the knot of anxiety in Ginny's stomach as they walked out of the Burrow. With a faint pop, George appeared before them.

"Blimey," he said, winking at Ginny, "I feel odd wearing green to a quidditch match even after all these years."

"At least it's gold, not silver." said Ginny, as she hugged her brother.

"Are we waiting on anyone else?" asked Hermione, peering around at the group.

"The rest are meeting us there." replied Ron, the excitement lighting his face like a child on Christmas morning.

The entire Weasley clan had made themselves available on this day to watch their baby sister playing her first professional match. Bill and Fleur (who was pregnant with their first child), Charlie, Percy and his girlfriend Penelope, Hagrid, and even Neville and Luna were meeting the group at the stadium to support Ginny. In a swish of several cloaks, the group turned into nothingness and appeared at the bustling stadium.

Before Ginny knew it, it was time to say goodbye to her family, and join the rest of her team. Harry hung back slightly, waiting for her family to finish hugging Ginny and wishing her luck. When everyone else was gone, Harry drew near to Ginny, a wry smile on his face.

"Aren't you going to ask me whether I'm nervous? Because if you are, my answer is yes." said Ginny, through the din of the bustling people all around her.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "In that case…" he said with an impish glint in his eyes as he put both hands around Ginny's waist and pulled her roughly towards him. Ginny's soft gasp was silenced as Harry put his lips to hers, setting her soul on fire. Harry drew back when it was over, but lowered his head so that they're foreheads were almost touching.

"Relax now. You're going to be amazing, I know it. I'll be the one cheering the loudest in the stands." He added, grinning down at her.

"Ginny?" called a blonde haired witch, also in Harpies robes, as she made her way towards them. "Come on! We're staring soon!" she said excitedly, acknowledging Harry with a smile and a nod. Harry shook his head as the girls retreated.

"You lucky wench, Ginny!" Harry heard the blonde witch say to Ginny, with a backward glance in his direction.

Harry found the rest of the Weasleys and his friends in a box that was allocated for the family and friends of the Harpies. Across the pitch, Harry could see the supporters of the opposing team, the stands dappled with people dressed in the sky blue of the Tutshill Tornadoes.

"Didn't we used to know someone that supported the Tornadoes?" whispered Hermione ironically into Harry's ear.

"Yeah, think I did." replied Harry, grimacing slightly at the memory of his former crush.

They were interrupted though, by the booming voice of the commentator; the match was beginning. The crowd screamed as he announced each of the players as they swooped onto the pitch.

"_Number Three, Ginny Weasley, rookie chaser for the Harpies_!"

Ginny felt like she was in a dream as the commentator announced her name and she shot into the clear sky above the pitch. The roar of the stadium filled her ears, and she could feel Harry's eyes following her, the taste of his kiss lingering in her mouth.

Harry, along with the rest of the box was cheering themselves hoarse for the Harpies. He could just make out the blazing fierceness on Ginny's face and the gold embroidery across her shoulder blades spelling _Weasley _as the referee blew the whistled and the balls were released into the air.

-----

"Bloody brilliant, she was!" said Ron proudly to Kingsley, who had just arrived at the Burrow for the lively post-match victory dinner.

"I'm afraid I can't stay for too long, I just thought I'd drop in and congratulate you." said Kingsley in his slow voice, smiling down kindly at Ginny as he shook her hand.

"Come now, Kingsley!" said Mr. Weasley jovially, handing Kingsley a drink, "Everyone is here!"

"Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley called to him, "Andromeda just arrived!"

Harry had just enough time to brace himself as a tiny dark haired boy flung himself into his arms. Harry's face reflected the delight in the little boy's as he caught up his godson, laughing in surprise.

"HARRY!"

"Whoa, little man! Wait a minute. You're not Teddy Lupin." said Harry, in mock confusion. "Last time I saw little Teddy, he was just a baby, not a big boy like you!"

"I grow, Harry! I'm Teddy Lupin!" said the little boy nodding vigorously and pointing at himself.

"So you are!" replied Harry, catching Andromeda's eye and grinning.

Andromeda who was standing near Ginny, watched her grandson's delight with a smile. "Congratulations dear, I heard you were wonderful"

"Thank you!" said Ginny, fairly glowing from everyone's affectionate praise. "How has Teddy been?"

Andromeda smiled somewhat sadly. "He's just fine. He's definitely inherited Remus's good nature. I haven't had half as much trouble with Teddy as I did with Nymphadora."

Ginny followed Andromeda's gaze to where Harry was tickling Teddy, the latter laughing unrestrainedly. Teddy was terribly fond of Harry, and Harry shared a very special bond with the toddler whose parents were lost in the battle. Though Harry often visited Teddy, and Teddy him, they had not seen each other since before Harry had left for Auror camp. Both of them seemed to be making up for the time lost, however.

"That young man will make an excellent father some day." said Andromeda, unexpectedly quiet. She squeezed Ginny's hand and dropped her a meaningful look before walking away.

Ginny remained where she was for a while longer, smiling to herself as she watched Harry and his godson.

They ate dinner out the garden, Ginny surrounded by people that she loved the most, everyone enjoying themselves. Teddy tailed behind Harry for most of the night, occasionally allowing Ginny or Hermione to carry him around, but always returning back to Harry.

The party carried on into the night, people coming and going, everyone scattered around the garden, talking amiably. It was with a pang of tenderness somewhere inside of him that Harry realized that Teddy, who he was carrying, had fallen asleep, one hand clutching at Harry's hair, his little thumb in his mouth. Harry got up slowly to take his godson into the house, and Ginny followed him silently. Going carefully so as to not wake Teddy, they both tiptoed into the house, Ginny opening the door for him.

"My room." Ginny whispered as she led Harry into her room. Harry sat on the bed and gently pried Teddy's hands from himself. He arranged the pillows around Teddy so he couldn't fall off the bed and pulled a cover over his godson. Ginny watched from the doorway as Harry kissed the boy goodnight. Suddenly Ginny was overwhelmed with emotion. It had been a perfect day, she thought to herself. The match was played amazingly and she had scored 90 points, earning her the respect of even the most die-hard Harpies fans. And now, she watched as the man she loved put his godson to sleep, her heart swelling with affection.

One day…she thought to herself as Harry got up and switched off the light. One day this too would be hers. But Ginny was in no rush…things were perfect as they were for now.

AN. Et Voila! Hope you enjoyed, please review!!


	5. Reflection

AN: Hello again, everyone!! I'm back after a bit of a break, so it was quite a longer wait than usual. Thanks for the lovely reviews on chapter 4, they're much appreciated!

Dumbledore-the-phoenix – Thanks! Hope you enjoy.

Mimosa – Thanks for your reviews! I'm glad you like it, hope that you didn't mind waiting for this chapter.

Queen of My Own Little World – Glad you liked. I probably didn't make this clear in the story, but Hermione's ring isn't big at all… you're probably being mislead by the pearls; they're actually realllly tiny pearls, like seed beads :D sorry, should've been more clear. Hope you keep reading!

Ginny Leigh – Aww thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. Please keep reviewing!

VGJunky158 – Hmmm… so far it has been much of the same. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter too!

And here is Chapter 5! This takes place the December after chapter 4. Enjoy!

Chapter Five: Reflection

Charlie Weasley pulled his scarf tighter against the chilly December morning. The snow was crisp and crunched under his boots, sparkling blue-white in the sunlight. It was one of those sharp and cold days, where hot breath hangs in the chilly air, and the sun blinds all. Charlie stooped under the barren archway to the graveyard. Come spring, the thick vines about it would flower in a riot of colour, but currently, the arch was forbidding and desolate. Rows of gravestones marked countless names and faces of the wizarding world, some old and crumbling, others whole and intact. Charlie trekked past them, creating a shallow tunnel through the undisturbed snow. Off to the side of the main cemetery was a secluded patch of land that in the summertime was shaded by a canopy of leafy trees, and lined with rows of the most beautiful magical plants. Now though, in the chill of December, the forlorn looking trees simply stood guard over the barren patches of soil. Charlie pushed open a wooden gate that held mounted upon it a sign which read: _Order of the Phoenix Memorial Garden. _In the center of the gardens stood a marble monument naming each of the fallen members of the light side. He knew too many of these names. They were too familiar to him he thought as he read each one to himself. His teachers, his uncles… his brother. It had not been the first time that Charlie had confronted his brother's name written in the cold stone; however, it never ceased to drive a knife through his heart.

Turning away from the monument, Charlie continued on his way. _Alastor Moody _was the first grave he came upon. He had not known the man well, but his father had always respected his character. He had died defending no less than their salvation and for that, he would be remembered as a hero. Conjuring a wreath, Charlie, laid it reverently at the tombstone. Next to Moody's grave were two adjoined headstones. _Here lies Remus John Lupin and his wife, Nymphadora Tonks who together shared honour in loving. _Charlie knelt in the snow, his head bowed.

-----

"_Remus_!" she cried in horror as her husband was blasted to the flagstones of the hall. A pale twisted face loomed above Lupin's prone form. The incantation was swept away in a green flash of light that snatched the life from Remus Lupin. An earsplitting, agonizing cry of grief was heard throughout the hall as Tonks rushed forwards towards Dolohov, blinded by her tears. Charlie, who had been dueling closest to her caught her around the waist and restrained Tonks as she tried, screaming, to reach her husband's murderer.

"_NO!_" Charlie heard himself say to her. Tonks was rendered senseless by watching her husband, her son's father, fall to the ground. In one twisting motion, she wrenched herself free of Charlie and launched herself towards Dolohov, who smiled in fierce and twisted vindication. Before Tonks had reached the man, a maniacal laugh resounded throughout the hall, echoing off the stones and the cries of all the others. Charlie could see what Tonks, blinded by her furious wrath could not. His cry of warning was joined by Ginny's as she too saw Bellatrix, her wand directed at Tonks' form, her face twisted in wild ferocity. Tonks turned as the curse hit her square in the chest, her face still fixed in the lines of righteous rage and hurt. Charlie watched her fall, and heard his sister's scream ring in his ears. Now restraining Ginny, who was still screaming through her tears, Charlie dragged her to safety, delivering her to Hermione, who looked stricken but all the same took Ginny's arm and held her back. Turning back towards the chaos, his face set in determination, Charlie waded back into the melee.

----

How odd, thought Charlie to himself as he raised his head. Tonks, whom he had never known well in life, had been branded into his memory in death. It filled him with regret. Nyphadora had been in his year at Hogwarts; a Hufflepuff though. He had never been close with her, but she was the kind of person you smiled at in the halls. Clumsy and quick to temper, Charlie best remembered young Tonks as a witch that only ever raised her wand in defense of another. Cheerful and talented, Tonks would have been the pride of Hufflepuff if not for her knack for traveling hand in hand with trouble. It was unfair. Had he bothered to know her better, perhaps his strongest memory of Tonks would not be of her falling, face contorted in innumerable emotions.

"Rest Well." Charlie murmured, procuring another wreath and laying at the tomb of his school-mate and the man she had loved. "Your son is loved and cared for by many."

Rising, Charlie made his way to the last grave he would visit that day. He came here more often than his family knew, though he suspected that his brothers too, visited alone. Kneeling again, Charlie wiped the snow off the tombstone with one gloved hand, revealing the lettering: _Frederick Weasley. _

Hello brother, thought Charlie to himself. No surging memory of his brother's demise surfaced in his mind; he had not watched Fred die. All the memories of his little brother were untainted from the stain of death. It was how Fred would've liked it. Fred had been so full of life it seemed, that even in death, Charlie could clearly picture his cheerful expression laced with good natured sarcasm and wit. Tomorrow would be Charlie's 27th birthday. He could almost hear his brother mocking him playfully from the grave that he was the only Weasley without a wife or girlfriend. Smiling ruefully, Charlie made a mental note to get on that. Bill was light-years ahead of him, now with a newborn baby daughter.

"Your niece's name is Victoire Marienne", Charlie subconsciously addressed Fred in silence. He had never paused to consider whether his brother could hear him; it was not something he doubted.

"She's only a few days old, but she's clearly got spunk and Fleur was pretty shocked that she came out with red hair."

Charlie smiled as he pictured his brother rolling his eyes; "she's a _Weasley_," he'd say.

"We're all well. George – George is missing you, but he's determined to live for the both of you. Harry and Hermione are still at the Burrow; they keep Ron and Ginny in high spirits. Don't worry about Ginny, I reckon she's found herself someone worth keeping in Harry; he's really good to her. It's only a matter of time till he proposes. I'll remember you when we take the mickey out of her. I hope you're ok, Fred." Finished Charlie, as he withdrew is wand and created another wreath.

"Er…sorry." he hesitated. "I know you would've preferred a toilet seat or something."

Charlie stood, smiling sadly to himself. As he made to leave, he noticed that he was no longer alone. A tall girl with a long braid hanging down her back was closing the gate to the garden behind her. They nodded at each other in polite acknowledgement as the girl approached a grave belonging to Edgar Bones.

Closing the gate behind him, Charlie made his way back to the apparition point, back into the world of the living.

-----

Ginny sat curled up in her favourite armchair sipping hot cider. An old and tattered book lay propped against her knees however Ginny was not reading, but musing. Life had been bliss lately; like something from a perfect dream. Her career was expanding and made Ginny happier than she ever imagined. It had taken some time to get used to her face splashed across the pages of Witch Weekly, but she endured it with good grace. As one of the most popular players of the single Witch-only quidditch club, Ginny had already been offered several tempting endorsements. She chose only a few that she liked, including one for the company that made Sleakeazy's Hair Potion, much to Hermione's delight. Everything was just so…good. It made Ginny uneasy. She felt almost as if she was being lured into a false sense of security and she hated it. She hated herself more though, for believing it.

Whichever way life decided to take her, there was Harry. She knew from the depths of her heart that Harry would stand by her forever. Or at least, that's what she wanted to believe. Raising her hand she contemplated the gold that hung at her wrist; glittering in the dim light of the sitting room. Why was he so good to her? Harry had given her every last piece of him. Her teammates were right; she was damn lucky, and she was glad that she had the sense to know it. He had never pushed her, never once asked more than she was willing to give. It's not that she wasn't willing, it's just that...she was waiting.

"Ginny?" Harry called her name as he entered the Burrow, stamping snow off of his boots.

"In the sitting room, love"

Ginny engrossed herself in her book as Harry entered the crowded room, pulling off his gloves. Surveying Harry over her book, Ginny smiled covertly as she noticed the windswept quality to Harry's hair.

"You look cozy under there." Harry said, sweeping Ginny a kiss.

"Mmm… I am." Ginny replied as she shifted to allow Harry to slip behind her.

Ginny rested her head on Harry's chest and his arms snaked around her; safe and warm.

"Cold fingers." Ginny murmured as she took Harry's hands in hers.

With tenderness Harry observed how small Ginny's hands were; how they seemed to fit perfectly into his. Her hands were slowly working at his cold fingers, delivering warmth to them. They might've sat there for hours, or perhaps it had just been minutes. It didn't particularly matter to either of them. Twisting in Harry's arms, Ginny laid her head against his chest again. She could hear his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath her. Without reason or thought, Ginny pressed her lips against Harry's and felt the rightness of it. Slow and sweet; Ginny could feel her pulse changing to match Harry's. Pulling back finally, Ginny feasted her eyes on Harry's face, languid with bliss. Her eyes searched his as if for the first time. She wanted him to have all of her; she wanted to give him everything. Not now; a voice said inside. She obeyed. He had waited, he would wait longer still. Ginny put her head to Harry's chest, if only to hear his heart beat again. Blessing it a thousand times over, Ginny drifted into sleep.

-----

Draco Malfoy pulled off his expensive leather gloves as he crossed the threshold of his mansion. The hall was grand with a high vaulted ceiling and marble floors. The main staircase stood directly opposite the double doors. Winston, Draco's butler and most faithful servant, took Draco's heavy black cloak and made him a precise bow.

"Chicken, tonight, Winston. See to it that it's done well. Mother is coming for dinner."

Draco just caught a flicker of delight on the man's face as he passed by, before Winston schooled his face into neutral once again.

"Very good, sir." He replied in monotone. The staff that served the house of Malfoy were trained to maintain the utmost professionalism and decorum and Winston was born and bred to it. Draco swept up the stairs and towards his private chambers. Through the oaken doors, he was greeted with the warmth of a merry fire burning in his grate. He had always privately detested the chilly draft of the Slytherin dungeons; it had not been his place to complain however. His bedrooms were handsome and well proportioned, done in elegant black and silver. Most would've expected green to be of prominence, but the room was decorated as such when he inherited this house of his, and he had no complaints.

Throwing his case down on his bed, Draco stood in front of an elegant silver gilded mirror and loosened his tie. He felt older than he looked…much older; much wearier, as if he had lived enough of life. His body betrayed this though. Tall and strong, he looked every image of youth. The colour had returned to his face with the death of the Dark Lord, but the iron in his character lingered. Draco was troubled to say the least. As a Death Eater, he was forced to confront the very worst in himself. His incompetence, his cowardice, and his inability to see things for what they were. Pureblood obsession was too deeply engrained in him to disappear so quickly, but Draco questioned it. What did it matter? He was a pureblood; that had not exempted him from suffering. It did not concern him really in the end. He had decided to never involve himself in problems that were not his own ever again. He had enough to deal with. Draco grimaced at himself in the mirror as he mused with the idea of his mother proposing another suitable match for him.

"Clorrie?" he called as a young woman with downcast eyes appeared before him. "Draw a bath please."

Sketching Draco a curtsy, Clorrie turned to leave. Draco was rather fond of this servant; her aunt had been his nursemaid since he was a boy. Even still, without her sentimental value, she was a useful member of his household; unobtrusive and highly skilled in healing.

However, he did not believe that even one of Clorrie's superior massages could distract him from the impending visit of his mother. No, that was harsh. Draco would always welcome his mother into his home, he was not so cruel as to not. He could not, however welcome her matchmaking efforts. Now unbuttoning his shirt Draco mused over his mothers near fanatical attempts. It was her coping mechanism, he supposed as he loosened his belt. This was how Narcissa had always been. When something upset her, she… arranged.

Now in a fluffy black robe, Draco made his way to the master bathroom, reminiscing as he went. When he had gone away to school for the first time, Narcissa had refurbished the entire manor to compensate for the lack of his presence in the house; it was simply how she dealt. With an unexpected pang of affection for his mother, Draco closed the door of his bathroom, locking it behind him. The room was filled with swirling steam emanating from the deep marble tub set in its center. Discarding his robe on the marble tiles, Draco lowered himself in to the warm aromatic bliss.

He had refused to marry Pansy Parkinson. That complicated matters significantly, as there was always an unspoken understanding that she would one day be his wife. He wholly intended on taking full advantage of the fact that it had never been formally discussed or agreed upon. Pansy had been groomed since childhood to be a good wife for a powerful pureblood husband. She had been taught how to flatter and look after a man; but Draco found he did not care for her. She had made a fool of herself that fateful night two and a half years ago, and intended to play that card if he must to escape a marriage to her.

Draco felt his muscles loosen in the hot scented bath waters; he relaxed, willing the water wash away his troubles. When it was clear that it could not, Draco reluctantly got out of the tub.

Sighing as he wrapped a towel around his hips, the reality of his situation settled in his mind. He would just have to endure his mother's meddling with patience, and explain once again, that at this time he was not interested in marrying. Although, that was somewhat of a lie. His mansion was large, too large to live in by oneself. Betimes it got… lonely. Now back in his room, Draco regarded his reflection in disgust. He sounded like a whining Gryffindor; what was the matter with him?

Shoving all thoughts of marriage aside, he dressed for dinner. Applying a drying charm on his hair, he let the silver blonde locks fall into his face. He had long stopped slicking back his hair like he did when he was a boy. He was fastening the silver clasp of his robes as a soft knock was heard at his door.

"Enter." He said imperiously.

Winston entered the room carrying a silver tray. "An owl for you, sir." He said with a curt bow.

Draco retrieved the envelope from the tray and dismissed his butler. Absentmindedly tearing open the envelope, he couldn't help but hope that his mother was canceling on him tonight. He read over the first lines quickly, but with a sinking feeling, doubled back to read more slowly. This was not his mother writing, to say the least. The colour had drained from his face upon finishing the missive. Running a shaky hand through his hair, Draco found himself seated on the bed. An odd expression of determination played across his face. Shredding the parchment in his hands, Draco crossed his chamber and threw the paper into the fire, watching as the flames licked away at the paper, consuming its entirety.

AN: Well there it is! I thought it only fair that Draco gets a bath scene too, since Harry did in book four (lmao jk) Anyways, reviews much apreciated, I love feedback :D


	6. The Waiting Game

AN. Hello, again! This chapter is coming up much later than i thought it would; really sorry about that. I've been busy with all sorts of things lately and finding time to write something was getting pretty hard. You might've noticed that I changed the summer for Golden Mist. I think this one better represents the story, and includes some aspects that are close on their way! Anyways, thanks again for your lovely reviews.

Kelmo – Thanks, glad you liked, please keep reading and reviewing!

VGJunky158 – I agree with you, I don't think that Lupin and Tonks were at ALL given their due in the books; I couldn't bear not to write them a decent death. Hope it did them justice! As for the rest, you're probably right. I tend not to write whole chapters in one sitting, so my tone certainly might've been changing from scene to scene. Hope you enjoyed it anyways, thanks for your reviews, I love reading them!

Saltwater Insomniac – Thanks! I thought it might get boring if I tried to go day to day for 19 years! Although it's going to slow down a bit the next couple of chapters. For your other concern, it's something that I've definitely thought about. The way I see it though, Ginny is really the only one with a well paying job. Of course, Harry's got plenty of money to throw around, but I can't see him leaving if Ron doesn't also leave. Ginny - I see her in no rush to move out as long as Harry is at her place. In any case, I planned to have them move out quite soon, in a few more chapters likely! Thanks for your review.

Writeforonce – Eheheh, yeah Moaning Myrtle was awfully lucky. Hope you enjoyed the story, please keep reading!

That said, here is Chapter 6 of From Out the Golden Mist. It takes place just a couple days after chapter 5 left off.

Chapter Six : The Waiting Game

Snow like softly falling cotton covered the bare trees and the dirt path that they flanked, laying a spell of silent beauty on the ground. The Burrow was nestled in a picturesque blanket of soft snow; powdered white collecting on windowsills and impressive icicles hanging from the eaves. The small window to the sitting room was partially obscured by a magnificent tree decorated with strings of fairy lights and Christmas baubles among a myriad of glittering ornaments. The Burrow was for once completely abandoned. The familiar sounds of pots banging in the kitchen, and people thundering up and down the rickety staircase were absent at present. In fact, the only sign of human inhabitance was four sets of intermingled footprints, now half covered in snow, that were created some hour past as Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny headed out for some Christmas shopping. Harry and Ron had exchanged dark looks as Ginny and Hermione walked ahead of them, their heads together; a tone of conspiratorial excitement swelling their voices. The last echoes of their laughter had disappeared long since then, and silence had set upon The Burrow like the falling snow.

Alas, all beauty withers eventually. The picture-perfect tranquility was shattered as the four returned, encumbered by parcels of all different sizes, ploughing through the freshly fallen snow. It was strange for Ron especially, who was so used to his house overflowing with people, to return to an empty home. In a scene that should've been cheery and bright, he found himself thinking about the days where his house was filled with various Order members, coming and going. So many gone now… Surprised at his own melancholy, he shook it off as he crossed the threshold of the Burrow, awkward with bags of Christmas shopping.

"Blimey, it's cold out there! Who's for hot cocoa?" said Ron, covering his moment of sullenness.

There was general agreement towards the suggestion as they mounted the rickety stairs of The Burrow to deposit bags in their rooms.

Ten minutes later, the boys sat at the kitchen table, nursing bowl sized mugs of cocoa. The girls had shooed them into the kitchen, promising to join them in a few minutes.

"What do you suppose they're on about?" asked Ron, his gaze sliding up the stairs to where the girls had barricaded themselves in Ginny's room.

Harry surveyed the stairs over his mug. "Comparing purchases …trying on their dresses maybe."

"What, _again_?" asked Ron, rolling his eyes. "Do they expect that they look any different in them than they did at the shop an hour ago?"

"Dunno." said Harry, sipping his cocoa as Ron summoned a large slice of left over cake and two plates.

"This masque is cracking up to be more trouble than it's worth, if you ask me." said Ron through a mouthful of cake, gesturing with his fork."

"Tell me about it." muttered Harry. "I just keep reminding myself it's for charity."

"Charity or not…how's it that they fair pick out our dress robes, and we don't even get to see their dresses?"

"I'm not too fussed, to be honest." replied Harry darkly. "I'd rather not have to pick my own."

Harry liked very much to believe that the only reason he would voluntarily walk into Gladrags Wizarding Wears and be subjected to Hermione and Ginny's scrutiny as he tried on a nigh endless array of dress robes was for charity. But he knew better than that. Loathe though he was to believe it, he knew he would endure a million charity balls if only to make Ginny happy. Whipped or not, he would of course be accompanying Ginny that night; it was the Holyhead Harpies' turn to host the quidditch league's annual charity masque. And it was after all, a very good charitable cause. It had been Ginny's suggestion that the proceeds fund a new building for an orphanage for the children whose families had been torn apart by the Dark Lord's reign of terror.

And so, it had been in a rare flurry of girlish frivolity that Ginny and Hermione purchased dresses for the event, giggling and laughing all the way. It slightly frightened and yet amused Harry. He had never known either Hermione or Ginny to be as silly as most other girls in his acquaintance. To think that they too were also capable of indulging in slightly impractical behaviour made him feel surprisingly grateful. There had been no room for that sort of thing when they had been kids, growing up under the dark cloud of Voldemort; it gladdened him to think that they were making up for it now.

"When did you say your parents are getting back?" asked Harry, finishing the last of his cake.

"Twenty-second, I think." answered Ron.

Mr. and Mrs Weasley had left a few days earlier for a holiday in Belgium to visit an old Hogwarts friend. Harry and Ron, who were now rather wondering if they should bother waiting for the girls, had just finished off the last of the cake from their farewell party. With the four of them left in the house, they had been taking it in shifts to cook. Ginny was the most useful in the kitchen, although Harry came in a close second. According to Ginny however, she wasn't performing up to her usual standard because the stove missed Mrs. Weasley, and refused to cooperate with her.

Smiling to himself, Harry magicked their empty dishes and mugs into the sink and set them to washing themselves.

"Well, I'm heading up for a nap." said Ron, stretching his arms in a leonine yawn.

Following Ron up the stairs a few minutes later, Harry's curiosity got the better of him and he paused on the first landing, Ginny's room.

"Can I come in?" he asked as he knocked softly on the door.

"Yeah." came Ginny's reply from within.

Harry restrained himself from rolling his eyes as he noticed two Gladrags boxes perched on the bed, hastily rewrapped. Hermione abruptly got up, retrieving her box and making to leave in a parody of tact, mumbling about getting some reading done. A bemused Harry turned his gaze towards Ginny, who was placing her box on a top shelf of her closet.

"You're not going to let me see?" asked Harry in his most innocent voice as he flopped down on the edge of Ginny's bed.

"No." she said turning to him, her arms folded across her chest. Adding brightly "You'll have to wait till Friday for the masque."

"Pleeeaase." he asked, enjoying the look on her face. Sweetening the deal, he put his hands on her waist and pulled her to where he was sitting, guiding her onto his lap.

"Don't you know? Good things come to those who wait." she said, trying her hardest to ignore the flutter of pleasure in her belly as Harry teased her with kisses along her jaw. She bit back a moan of delight as Harry's lips hovered over her ear.

"Maybe. But better things come to those who don't." whispered Harry wickedly into her ear.

"Shut up." She replied, her expression mirroring his as she turned her head away from his teasing and kissed him full on the lips. Ginny felt Harry's lips under hers protest as she pulled away from him. Pulling him up with her as she stood, she wrapped her arms around his neck one last time.

"Now please get out." she said smiling evilly. "I've got work to do." she added, turning Harry towards the door.

Ignoring his protests of mock offence, she flashed him one last winning smile before closing the door on Harry. Crossing to her bed, Ginny lay down, quivering with the aftershocks of bliss. That was awfully close, she thought to herself as she smiled into her pillow. Truly, she did believe there was good in waiting. But she was beginning to feel foolish about it. Ginny's resolve began to crumble. _He's not going anywhere. _Hermione had said to her earlier that day as Ginny confided in her. She had meant it as a noncommittal statement, allowing Ginny her right to choose. At first she had taken it to mean that there was no rush, which had likely been Hermione's intention. But now…it was something different. Really, truly she could see herself spending the rest of her life with Harry. More, she could see him wanting to; wanting her. So then, why wait? There was no reason for it…Enough waiting. Friday. Friday after the masque. With her decision made, Ginny relaxed. She had a few moments peace before a bubble of excitement swelled within her. The only other ball she had attended was the Yule Ball when she was 13. That had been… interesting. Neville, her partner, had been sweet, but terribly inept. Ginny was quite certain that Harry would prove to be slightly more cautious of her feet as they danced. Either way, she thought coyly, it would be a night to remember.

-----

A pair of wide eyes pierced the darkness as the figure swept up the snow-covered gravel driveway in haste. Her cloak was the same colour of the night and though she was expected, she supposed it was best not to be seen. The darkness seem to hang heavier than the fallen snow; a velvety blackness. The walk to the house seemed endless, and yet when she reached the door, she couldn't help but wish it had been longer. The black velvet sleeve of her cloak trailed as she raised her hand, hiding within its folds a shaking arm. A few heartbeats spanned the time it took for a stately looking man to open the doors after she had wrapped the silver serpent knocker against the heavy oak. Standing in the marble hall, her eyes took time to adjust to the sudden brightness. The butler led her into a lavishly furnished room off to the side and bid her wait. Again, only time for barely a few deep breaths before the door opened. Her breath caught as she turned, halfway through drawing back the hood of her cloak, towards the door.

"Cousin." Draco Malfoy said in way of greeting.

-----

Fleur reached up with nimble fingers and clucking her tongue, fussed with the collar of Harry's dress robes. Enduring it with as much good grace as he could muster, Harry tried to catch a glimpse of himself in all his silliness in the mirror over Fleur's shoulder. He attempted to conquer his unruly hair, raising his hands to command his locks to lie flat, but Fleur batted his hands away.

"Don't. Eet looks better messy."

Harry saw Ron approaching in the mirror looking rather gloomy.

"This brings back… memories." he said with a look of reminiscent horror on his face.

Reading his mind, Harry couldn't help agree. "Just be thankful you have proper robes this time around."

It was true. In typical mannish ignorance, they were completely eluded by the fact that they both looked rather striking that night. Harry, dressed in crisp black robes edged in gold thread and Ron, in robes of a smouldering grey looked a fair deal more handsome than they could have ever imagined themselves to be the last time they had attended a ball.

Bill appeared in the doorway, holding a fretfully stirring pink bundle, rocking his daughter back and forth to quiet her. He looked up at his younger brother and his best friend and sniggered evilly.

"What?" asked Ron flatly, turning to face his brother.

Bill made a poor job of covering his amusement, but managed to smile amiably at them.

"Nothing." He said, grinning.

Ron moodily passed Bill out the door, Harry a few steps behind.

"I wouldn't wear that face when you meet up with your date. Although Hermione's canaries are highly amusing, I hear." called Bill jovially at their retreating backs, quelling as his wife shot a look of venom in his direction.

Fleur saw them to their apparition point. They had not come here of their own will, but were rather exiled here as Hermione and Ginny staked out The Burrow for themselves to get ready, rolling their eyes when Ron had complained that there were enough rooms for them to all. Harry had even appealed directly to Ginny, in his own much quieter fashion. Taking his face in her hands, and pressing her lips against his, Ginny had held her ground.

"But it'll be so much more fun this way." She had said quietly smiling up at him.

Harry looked into her brown eyes and found himself forgetting about being temporarily kicked out of The Burrow.

But it was Fleur who now kissed them goodbye. They withdrew their wands and were about to turn into the darkness, when Fleur gasped, grabbing their arms. Bidding them to wait, she ran back into the house and appeared moments later carrying two finely crafted masks.

"You cannot go without these." She said, exasperated, pressing the masks into their hands.

"Oh damn, I was hoping we could leave before she remembered them." said Ron under his breath.

"Bloody stupid tradition if you ask me." Added Harry as they grasped arms and twisted together into blackness of the night.

AN. And theres chapter six! Hope you enjoyed and that you'll review! If all goes well, chapter 7 should be up sooner than this one was. Thanks for reading!


	7. What Lies Behind

AN. Back, again with another update :D Sorry it took so long, the first week back to school was hellish. Thanks for all the reviews though!

Dueler 312 - Thanks, and hope you like!

Stargazer777 - Thanks for your reviews. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Just to address one of your concerns, I know that Hermione ends up in Magical Law Enforcement, but i find it hard to beleive that she went straight directly there, from her attitude towards the department during book 7.

the-4gotten-marauder - Why thank you! I'm glad your enjoying it, please keep reading and reviewing!

Georgeluver92 - Thankyou, Teddy will most definitely be involved in future chapters, please keep reading!

book-worm9008 - keep reading to find out!!

Xurga - Oh dear, I hope you dont suspect whats going to happen. In fact, I hope I totally surprise you! You'll have to keep reading and tell me! Thanks for your review!

And without further ado, here is Chapter 7. It picks up right where chapter 6 left off, as Harry and Ron head to the Chartity Masque.

Chapter 7: What Lies Behind

The velvet blackness lay heavily upon the forest of evergreens that served as a background to the quaint castle. Pinpricks of light emanated from live nymphs that hovered about the manicured hedges of the gardens flanking either side of the grand entrance. A column of golden light spilled unto the shovelled walkway as the double doors swung open to admit Harry and Ron. Inside the entrance hall, a riot of colour prevailed against a backdrop of golden decoration and their footfalls were lost in amongst the excited buzz of polite conversation. There was a great curving staircase that led to a landing above. Just as Harry and Ron began mounting the stairs, a pair of adorned double doors at the top of the stairs was swung open, revealing the glittering ballroom within.

"Where do you suppose they are?" asked Ron, scratching his nose, seemingly unfazed by the lavish ornamentation of their surroundings.

"Dunno. Let's go inside and see; they might've been at the other side." answered Harry, eyes darting across the crowd of masked faces, searching for a crown of flaming red hair.

The throng had already begun to funnel through the doors into the vast hall and in a blink of the eye, Harry had lost Ron among the multitude of jewel-toned dresses and masked faces. Emerging on the other side of the doors, Harry detached himself from the crowd, hovering near the wall and scanning the room. The ballroom was lit by thousands of the same softly glowing nymphs that adorned the gardens outside. The main source though, was the immensely towering Christmas tree that stood in the center of the circular room, decorated in a profusion of golden ornaments. Gold clothed tables heaped with an abundance of food lined part of the room; while sets of tables and chairs were grouped around the outskirts of the hall. The venue reminded Harry of Hogwarts, and yet, the image of the Great Hall spattered with blood, and bodies swam before his vision, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. The night was not going well thus far, and Harry had an odd feeling. He wanted more than anything to find the other three, and to forget the sinister sensation that had settled into his chest.

"Harry!" a familiar voice called in genuine delight.

Harry turned to face Hermione, forgetting his uneasiness at the sight of her familiar face alight with joy. She was gliding towards him in a full-skirted gown of the deepest midnight blue; her creamy bare shoulders rising above her velvet-clad torso. Tiny diamond like jewels glittered at her waist, sewn into the velvet of the closefitting bodice. Gloved to the elbow, in her hand was a simple white mask with the same glittering detail. Hermione's thick hair was smooth and elegant, upswept in a sophisticated arrangement that revealed her graceful neck.

"You look wonderful." he said, taking her gloved hand in his and kissing her cheek. Harry was slightly dazed by Hermione's loveliness, she hardly ever bothered about appearances and yet today she stood out from the crowd.

"Thanks," she said, her face glowing in the golden light. "Where's Ron?"

"We got separated somehow," Harry answered. "Let's go look for him. Weren't you with Ginny?" he asked her as he took her hand, and then waded into the slowly dispersing crowd.

"We got separated too, she was being introduced to all these important quidditch people, and then I saw you standing alone." she answered scanning the room for Ron.

"There he is," said Harry, spotting a red head taller than most. "You go ahead, I'll find Ginny."

Hermione answered without taking her eyes off Ron, "She was by the stairs when I last saw her."

Turning towards the double doors of the ballroom, Harry heard Ron say something to Hermione, and from the corner of his eye, saw Hermione stand on tip-toe to kiss Ron. Harry crossed the ballroom, a masked figure among hundreds of others. How he had wished for this kind of anonymity as a student, even now in fact. And yet, it discomfited him, made him nervous. Paranoid. That's what he was. He did not trust the way that he did before; it was impossible now. Auror training and life in general had taken that away from him. Those bejewelled and feathered masks flashed at him from every direction as he made towards the doors, reminding him forebodingly of the cruel masks of the Deatheaters. Harry had to remind himself that they hid only the innocent faces of people who had turned up here, dressed in their finest, all in the name of charity.

The landing outside the doors was quite empty and Harry made towards the balustrade that overlooked the entrance hall. Leaning over it's ledge to see below, Harry heard the soft click of heels mounting the curving stairs. Instinctively he knew it was Ginny who climbed the steps. She looked soft and yet determined; an odd expression playing on her face, her jaw set. It seemed she was looking inward, and had not seen Harry yet. Harry relished the moment where he could look upon her face without her knowing and gather her in. Less than a second it lasted before the intensity of his gaze drew her eyes to his. At the top of the stairs, Ginny stood motionless, the ghost of that strange look vanishing from her face to be replaced by a smile. Harry's breath caught in his throat and he could nearly feel his heart knocking against his ribs. His gaze must've spoken words that his mouth did not, for Ginny broke eye contact, and lowered her eyes to the ground, a flush creeping up her neck.

At last Harry found his voice and bridging the gap between them whispered, "You're so beautiful."

As the rest of the teams, Ginny was dressed in her quidditch colours. A gown of forest green silk clung to her torso, gathering at her waist before giving way to a wave of flowing material that fluttered upon the ground at every step. A sweetheart neckline with wide set straps of green silk contrasted against her ivory skin, and laid bare her delicate collarbone. Cascading down her back were loose dark red curls, fixed with emerald brilliants that glittered green against her fiery locks.

Ginny slid her warm hands along Harry's jaw, leaning in to press her cool lips upon his. "Thank you." She whispered. "You look amazing." She added, a flicker of astonishment in her voice.

Someone who didn't know her well would not have noticed it, but Harry did. Borrowing Ron's old line he grinned "Always the tone of surprise."

Ginny grinned sheepishly at him before fixing her mask on her face, a simple gold domino that hid none of her beauty. Harry followed suit, pulling his black mask over his eyes and together they entered through the doors.

-----

It was midway through the night and the ball was in full swing with couples dancing around the mammoth Christmas tree and people filling themselves with good food and drink. No formal dinner was served, though the banquet tables were magically replenished from time to time, and were kept overflowing with all manners of delicious food throughout the night. Harry and Ron sat at one of the small tables, watching the dancing couples in the dim light and sipping drinks. Ginny was dancing with a Ballycastle beater, and Hermione was dancing with Oliver Wood, of Puddlemere United. Harry side-glanced at Ron, who was draining his goblet, his mask pushed up across his forehead. There was once a time, Harry mused, that Ron would've been hopping mad to see Hermione dancing in the arms of another man, a professional quidditch player, no less. Now though, he endured it with a patience that Harry was sure would not exist if it was Viktor Krum that Hermione was currently laughing with. Some things never change.

Harry watched the dancers and admired the dazzling tree, trying to relax into the moment. The longer he was idle, however, the faster that strange weight dropped into his chest; a disquieting uneasiness. Harry was reluctant to acknowledge it, yet strangely afraid to ignore it. Harry closed his eyes, and shook hid head, trying to rid himself of his restlessness. Upon opening his eyes, Harry's gaze fell upon someone sitting alone at a table some ways down.

It was a girl with chestnut brown hair, and a nondescript black dress. Although most had removed their masks, she still wore hers; a black number that veiled three quarters of her face under a layer of gauzy fabric. Harry could not see her eyes, but he knew she had been staring at him; she had looked away the second that Harry's eyes fell upon her. Harry had the strangest feeling that he had met this girl before, but her generous mouth, which was all he could see of her face, was completely unfamiliar. Harry felt a bewildering urge to tear the mask from her face. Before Harry could ask Ron whether he could recognize her, she had disappeared into a cluster of people.

Harry did not have time to dwell, as the song ended, and Ginny and Hermione made their way back towards their table, their faces flushed and happy. Taking drinks from a circulating waiter, they sat down in-between Harry and Ron and free from any foreboding thoughts, chatted animatedly with Ron through the next few songs.

After a while, Ron and Hermione left, winding there way onto the dance floor. Harry ran a lock of Ginny's flaming hair through his fingers and asked, "Are you having a good time, love?"

Ginny smiled that same inward smile she had given before, "Yes, everything went off without a hitch."

"Good." He said. The current song ended, and the band struck a much slower tune. Standing, Harry extended his hand to Ginny and pulled her up. "Come and dance?"

Ginny squeezed his hand and followed him onto the dance floor. Harry placed his hands around Ginny's waist and she wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder as they revolved slowly on the spot.

Ginny couldn't help but wonder whether Harry could feel her rapidly beating heart against his body. She didn't want to wait any longer, she wanted him now. The wondering was too much for her to bear, wondering what it would be like… But she hadn't long to wait; not long at all. It was Friday, tonight all her wondering would be put to rest, all her wanting satisfied.

Harry inhaled the scent of Ginny's hair, something flowery, something familiar. Harry thought he wouldn't mind staying like this forever, surrounded by the love of another. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine that they were alone, by themselves in an empty room. Harry found it quite impossible, but didn't mind. Ginny was here in his arms, and that was all that mattered. Almost all. Through a parting in the crowd of people on the dance floor, Harry spied the mysterious woman with the black mask over Ginny's shoulder. She was leaning against the wall of the room, her face unreadable under the shadows of the mask, but clearly fixed on Harry and Ginny. Harry felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end, and once again wished he could cross the hall and remove her infuriating mask. He didn't though, only casually guided Ginny deeper into the crowd, until they were covered on all sides by other dancing couples.

-----

Harry sat at their table, alone this time and sipping his drink. Ron and Hermione were in the thick of people, dancing presumably. Ginny could be seen dancing with the brother of one of her team mates. Harry had barely sat down when a waiter approached his table.

"A note, sir," He said, holding out a tightly folded piece of paper. "From the lady."

"What lady?" asked Harry, bewildered as he accepted the note. His heart jumped in his chest as the waiter pointed towards a woman with chestnut brown hair. Even with her back turned towards them, Harry recognized her. Harry thanked the waiter, and waited until he left to open the tightly folded parchment.

_You long to see what's behind my mask, what secrets I'm hiding. Rest assured; secrets I have, although none that mean harm to you or your friends. I want to talk to you. Be at the West Gardens in 5 minutes, and I will show you my face. Come alone. I mean you no harm, but I cannot risk another seeing me. _

The note was written in a slanting hand, and if Harry looked closely at it, he could see where the writer's hand shook. He looked up and into the corner that the waiter had pointed at, but the girl was gone. Harry weighed his options with more calmness that he thought he was capable of. If she meant him harm, she had all night to do it. He was alone often enough, as he went to the bathroom, as he sat here by himself at this very moment. The promise of seeing what lay beyond that mysterious mask was what swayed him the most. And yet, why should it matter? Hadn't he learned his lesson of running behind trouble? Cursing his lack of discipline, Harry stuffed the crumpled note into his pocket, and checked for his wand. He found it in an inside pocket; his faithful wand, warm in his hand. Hiding it down his sleeve, Harry made towards the West Garden outside.

-----

The gardens were expansive, even in the dead of winter. Harry found his way to the western side of the castle, and spied the fairy-lit garden that grew there. There were rows of hedges and bushes that were manicured into different shapes. There were stone benches and a small fountain that continued to flow despite the near freezing temperature. Seated on a bench with her back to the castle was the girl. They were quite alone.

Harry, who had been taught and drilled on how to analyze these sorts of situations, thought that she was rather foolish to have been waiting here for him. It heartened him, and his voice betrayed no fear when he spoke.

"Why didn't you wait to see whether I was alone?" he asked her, holding his ground.

She stood as she answered, and Harry found her voice accented, rich and pleasant, and yet disquietingly familiar in a way that raised his hairs. "You wouldn't ask your friends to accompany you into danger."

Harry blinked. Was he truly that predictable? "You consider yourself danger?" asked Harry, trying to regain his composure.

"No." she said, and Harry heard the apprehension in her voice. "I told you I mean no harm, and I mean that. But you're an Auror, and you're trained to look for it.

Harry didn't bother to correct her, but it would be a while yet before he could call himself an Auror. "What have you brought me here for, then?" he asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice.

She stepped into the light, her chocolate hair shining. She was very pale, fairer than both Ginny and Hermione and taller than both. She was almost of a height with Harry.

"To talk to you." She repeated, in her accent, raising her hands to her face. Harry was rendered incapable of speech as she removed her mask, casting her features into the soft golden light.

-----

AN. There it is! If you're wondering why this and the last chapter seemed shorter than usual, its because originally they were combined as one chapter. But then I figured it would be better to break them up rather than to make you guys wait extra long until it was finished! I hope you enjoyed it, and that you'll keep reviewing!

-SiilverLining


	8. A Bargain

A.N. Why hello again :) That was a bit of a break, there. It's been about 4 years since I've updated this story. A lot has changed since then, quite frankly. University, job, family, its all so different HOWEVER my love of HP remains there with me, and has the whole way through it all. The reason I am returning to this story is mainly that I miss writing. I love it, and I miss it and as a Science major, there just isn't much room in the day for creative writing. Alas, I WILL MAKE IT WORK! I wonder whether anyone you read this story then, will continue to read it now. If you do... please identify yourself in a review, I would love to know!

Anyways, on with the show. This chapter directly follows the last chapter, with no time between. You might find that its a little bit jumpy in terms of POV and time and place, but please bear with me as I ease myself back into what writing is :)

Chapter 8: A Bargain

Ginny twisted back into reality, gasping for air in the cold winter night, the skirts of her emerald gown swirling about her. Her apparition was the only source of movement against the velvety black night. The tall and magnificent wrought iron gates of Hogwarts stood before her. She lifted her eyes skyward where a heavy moon cast its light on her tearstained face. With outstretched wand, she issued a regal silvery mare that cantered through the gates and through the stone walls of the castle.

She could hold no longer. She fell to her knees and remained there, in a pool of emerald silk, her shoulders heaving with a pain reminiscent of only one other betrayal. _Stupid girl. Foolish, stupid girl. You are nothing to him. _She closed her eyes against the pain but it was a mistake. Branded into her memory was the vile scene.

_"Have you seen Harry?" she had asked one of her teammates. _

_ "I saw him go out.. In the garden I think.." _

_Ginny thanked her and smiled. Adjusting her golden domino as she went, her smile turned inward, a private reflection. She made her way past the revelry, the couples dancing, drinking, celebrating beauty. As she reached the arching doors, the crowd thinned and she increased her stride. Down the marble stairs, she walked out into the night. The gardens were beautiful, and it was cold enough for her breath to hang in a mist. The waist high hedges were elaborately pruned into a mazelike arrangement. In the distance, she thought she recognized the tenor of his voice, too quiet against the night to make out the words. Smiling inwardly again, she rounded the corner and there he was. _

_With his back to her, Ginny could just make out the shock of unruly black hair and the outline of his body. There he was, his leg snaking around the girl, their bodies pressed tight against each other. The girl's back was to a stone wall, pinned there by Harry. Harry's head was tilted to one side and the girl was struggling to keep her breath steady. Ginny could just make out the gleaming chestnut brown of the girl's hair above Harry's shoulder._

_The air seemed to freeze in her lungs, to constrict her throat and wrench her heart like a hot knife. _

"_Harry." The girl crooned as Ginny regained her faculties. There was nothing left. She turned on her heel and ran, going nowhere. In anger, she pulled out her wand and spun to face the direction she had ran. She wavered a moment, caught between pain and rage. It was with a sob that she swirled on the spot, eyes closed and disappeared into nothingness with a crack._

Through her closed eyes, she could sense the flood of light that appeared as the doors to the Entrance of Hogwarts were thrown wide. Luna came at a run, her face stricken at the sight of Ginny, desolate on the snow covered ground.

* * *

_"To talk to you." She repeated, in her accent, raising her hands to her face. Harry was rendered incapable of speech as she removed her mask, casting her features into the soft golden light._

"EXPELLIARMUS"

Although the blow had knocked the wind out of her, she had been ready for it. She allowed her body to be pliant and to endure the pain without struggling. Harry had reacted instinctively and it was out of sheer reflex that he bridged the distance between them, forcing the girl wearing the face of Bellatrix Lestrange back against the cold stone wall. His body was arranged to prevent her from moving, his left forearm angled across her windpipe, his right holding both their wands at her belly. Harry snarled, still incapable of coherency. "You." was all he managed. And yet at once he knew it wasn't so. This was not the woman that Molly Weasley, mother of his heart, had finished.

Her face, tilted upwards by Harry's arm, was the same, but for her eyes. They differed from Bellatrix's cold, unfeeling black, and as they angled down to regard Harry there was no trace of haughty arrogance or defiance.

He must've known; it must've registered that this was not her. She would not have been spared those few seconds, and nor would he. The girl willed her heartbeat to slow as Harry eased the pressure on her throat by a fraction.

"Who are you?" Harry demanded with a quiet fury. She was not Bellatrix, but that did not mean she had any right to wear her face like that. The girl took advantage of the chance to put air in her lungs. Taking a few shallow breaths, steeling herself to an answer.

"My name is Calliope Black."

Harry tilted his head, and opened is mouth to demand more from her, but she cut him off, alarm reflected in her dark eyes

"Harry..." she murmured, pausing, "Someone is there."

Harry simultaneously moved the wands to her throat and turned. There was a rustle of fabric and the sound of heels clicking on the cobblestone at a run. A mane of deep red flickered out of site around the bend. Harry was caught between his desire to run after Ginny and his perverse curiosity. His moments worth of indecision cost him; there was a sharp crack in the distance, the sound of someone disapparating. He made to leave, but she surprised him.

"Wait!" she implored, grabbing at his robes. And then quieter, "please... I'm not sure I will have the courage for this a second time."

"Who are you, and what do you want with me." snarled Harry through his hatred for the woman that was keeping him from perusing Ginny.

She closed her eyes, screwing up her face slightly, as if against some painful memory. "First give me your word, that you will meet me again." It was the only bit of coercion she intended on using in this meeting.

"No." said Harry coldly. "Why should I?"

"It will be in your benefit to hear me out, but here is not the place. Promise me and I will give you my word that I mean no harm to you nor to anyone you love"

"The word of a stranger? Harry laughed, but coldly again asked. "Why should I believe you?"

"My wand, you have it. Keep it until you are convinced. If you are never convinced, keep it forever. Just promise me one more audience with you." It was a bargain she was prepared to strike. She knew it would come down to this, and hoped only that it would be enough.

Harry regarded the girl. She was not evil – she had spoken of love, something a Dark witch would not think to venture near so casually. Harry was not a fool. He knew there was magic to be done without a wand, but she was surrendering her witchdom in a way that Bellatrix never would have. Ginny's flight had left a whining panic rising in his head. Where was she? Time was ticking.

"Fine. We will speak again. I keep this, though." he said flicking her wand.

Harry turned and ran without looking back. The woman, crumpled against the cold stone, her eyes screwed up once again. She was afraid, but she was relieved.

Harry sprinted down the cobblestone pathway, dodging his way between hedges towards the main entrance of the gardens. Perhaps only Harry could've spotted it in the dark as he ran past; he hadn't been the youngest Gryffindor seeker in a century for nothing. He came to an abrupt halt and backtracked slightly to pick up an object discarded at the edge of the path. Harry felt leaden and yet hollow all at once as he straightened up with Ginny's delicate golden slipper in his hand.

He figured he knew the reason for Ginny's flight; he knew what it must've looked like. And yet, standing there with her shoe in his hand, an eerie feeling of doubt crept over him. It was a trick... it had been all a trick. He had been distracted, and now Ginny was gone. Of her own volition, Harry couldn't say. Hundreds of masked faces danced and revelled inside the hall. And one among them wore the face of a deeply evil murderess, hidden by sheer numbers. Harry felt even more leaden. He had let it get by, it had all slipped through his fingers.

He stood, holding the shoe and breathing deeply. Fear was clouding his judgement, and he willed himself to be master of it before it took over.

"Harry!" a call from behind him.

Harry spun, but did not draw his wand. It was Hermione's voice. Her smile faltered at the expression on his face. "What is it? Harry – Where's Ginny?" she asked, slowly, her eyes travelling between Harry's face and the slipper in his hand.

* * *

Luna lowered herself to the ground to sit next to Ginny before the roaring fire, a tray of hot cocoa floating behind her. Luna had received Ginny's patronus and when she flung open the doors of Hogwarts to admit her, she had found her sitting in the snow amongst the freezing wet folds of her ball gown. Luna was - as she hardly ever was - troubled.

They were sitting in a handsomely proportioned room that had been appointed to Luna by Professor Flitwick as her quarters. She had been happiest at Hogwarts, and remained here after graduating to assist Professor Flitwick in what he deemed his "old age." Luna's head of house saw past her apparent dotty demeanour and saw in her certain qualities that he felt would serve her well as his successor. Wayward, but intelligent and kind – most of the professors, including Flitwick, had a soft spot in their hearts for Luna Lovegood.

Ginny had been the kindest to her, her first friend. She had put her arms around her as Ginny told the story in a deadened voice, her tears refusing to fall. Luna's dreamy gaze over Ginny's shoulder had been troubled, a frown creasing her brow. She remained silent. Ginny disengaged herself from her and sat with her knees drawn into her chest, staring into the fire.

"Cocoa?" Luna had asked, her voice ephemeral and dreamlike.

"Sure" Ginny had answered, without taking eyes off the fire.

Luna had ducked into her small kitchen. A tall narrow window faced the frozen over lake. She expelled her own silvery hare into the kitchen "Please tell Harry Potter that Ginny is safe with me." She communicated to her patronus silently. It twitched its ears before bounding out the window in graceful arching leaps.

She returned to the sitting room, a tray floating behind her.

They sipped in silence. Luna weighed the information she had, steeling herself to say anything. On the one hand, it was out of the question to think that Harry could've done what Ginny said he had. On the other hand, Ginny was no fool; it wasn't likely that she would throw around accusations without being completely and utterly sure of what she saw. Ginny was too level headed. But all the same, Harry was Harry... it was not in his power to hurt people – especially her – even if he tried.

Luna opened her mouth to begin to try and frame her words. But any consolation or advice she had for Ginny was interrupted by the sudden and sharp sound of her door being blasted open.

A.N. Well there it is :) Please review if you enjoyed. I will probably be much more motivated to continue if someone else is enjoying reading this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it.


	9. Forgiven, not Forgotten

A.N. Well Hello again, everyone. I am heartened and thankful for the reviews I got on chapter 8. **Swimmer07, MaRiEl CulleN, jammin287 and HarryPotterFanatic, **thank you very much for your kind words :) I am trying to do as much writing as possible but the next little while is going to be rather rough. I am writing my MCAT very soon, and as a result, writing is just what I am doing on my study breaks. SOON though it'll all be over, and then I will perhaps have some more time to put into it. Anyways, here is chapter 9 for your reading enjoyment. Please, please review with some feedback - positive or negative. I would love to hear what you think.

Chapter 9: Forgiven, not Forgotten

"Oh hello, Harry." Luna welcomed him brightly, as if they had just run into each other at the post office.

Harry stood, framed in the doorway, taking deep steadying breaths. He crossed the room in an instant and was on the hearth with Ginny.

"Are you hurt?" he asked her as he pulled her into his arms.

Ginny resisted, him "No" she answered, "No, I am not hurt."

"More cocoa then?" Luna's dreamlike voice broke the silence. And she stood and left the room, closing her kitchen door behind her with no intention of returning.

"Lets go home, Ginny." Harry started. "Please, we can talk there."

Without another word, Ginny stood and reached into a little silver box on the mantle. Without pausing, she threw a handful into the fire. She stepped into the flames and spoke clearly, her voice inked in anger and sadness "The Burrow."

Harry watched as the green flecked flames enveloped her body, throwing her resolute expression into sharp relief before she spun away into the fire.

Harry sighed and lifted himself off the ground. He felt old, much older than he was. Copying Ginny, he too stepped into the flames and spun off towards the Burrow.

* * *

He was flung out of the fire and into the familiar kitchen, coughing slightly to exhale the soot from his lungs. He looked up to see Ron and Hermione, changed out of the dress robes, each nursing a steaming cup of tea at Mrs. Weasley's scrubbed kitchen table. They were silent. Harry could hear Ginny's foot falls, running up the stairs of the rickety old house.

There was a loud crash as Ron launched himself out of his seat, his chair clamouring to ground beneath him.

"What did you do to her?" he snarled at Harry.

Harry was so alarmed that he his brain seemed to have seized. This was all so wrong. Before he could react though, Hermione had place herself between the two men faster than if she had been accioed there.

"Ron." she said in a low and dangerous voice, her back to Harry. "Ron, we are going to let Harry sort this out with Ginny - understand?" He shot Harry a venomous look over Hermione's shoulder. "She's obviously safe now, so lets go." She said, putting her hands on his shoulders and turning him around. "Lets just go to bed."

Ron grumbled, muttering a low oath beneath his breath, but Hermione was unwavering. They departed up the same staircase leaving Harry to simply stare at their retreating backs.

Harry wished he too could just go to bed and forget this miserable and confusing night. Sighing inwardly again though, he knew that it would be the end of him and Ginny if he didn't sort this out here and now. He wasn't sure that she would believe him. If the roles had been reversed, he probably wouldnt've.

It didn't matter, he would try. And with that, he climbed the stairs and knocked softly at her door.

* * *

"Ron, just try to relax will you, please?" Hermione murmured from inside the circle of his arms a few hours later. She wriggled in closer to him, pulling his arms tighter around her. Her back was to him, but she could make out the sounds of Ron gnashing his teeth together. Ginny and Harry had been rowing for what seemed like an eternity. When it became apparent that Harry was in no mood to cast the Muffliato charm around them, Hermione had slipped into Ron's room - just in case further restraining was in order.

Ron said nothing, but continued with the teeth gnashing. Hermione was too tired to try and talk some logic into the situation. Neither her nor Ron had much clue was this row was about, and the walls of the Burrow, though thin enough to permit the tenor of raised voices and the occasional crunch of a glass object being thrown against a wall were not permeable enough to allow actual words to reach them, two stories above. Hermione noted, in her half asleep state, that the voice raised most often seemed to belong to Ginny – not that that helped with anything much. Whatever it was, she would find out tomorrow first thing in the morning.

Sleep was inevitable for both of them. With Ron's steady heartbeat at her back, and with his strong arms around her, Hermione felt safe and relaxed despite the obvious tension crackling through the Burrow tonight.

"I love you, Ron." she whispered to his sleeping form.

Had Hermione been able to hold sleep at bay for a little longer, she would've heard the voices from downstairs quiet, the sound of shattering class cease and a long silence follow only to be interrupted by the sound of a stifled sob every now and then.

* * *

Harry looked like death. It was early the next morning. He sat at the kitchen table facing the stairs, a cold mug of bitter coffee on the table between his elbows, his head in his hands. He heard Hermione's footsteps, creeping as quietly as she could down the stairs. She stopped short, when she saw him sitting at the table.

"Morning." He croaked, looking up.

Hermione sat down opposite, looking carefully into Harry's eyes. There was no point beating around the bush. "Is everything alright, now?"

Harry swivelled his half finished coffee around. "Yes. Everything is going to be fine."

"Did you sleep at all, Harry?" looking concerned but relieved all the same. Harry snorted, "Yeah right."

Hermione sighed, standing. "I'll make some breakfast for you then, shall I? And you can tell me what on Earth happened last night."

She turned and busied herself with the breakfast. She set a pan on the stove and set it heating with her wand while she directed the teakettle to fill itself.

"Hermione," started Harry slowly. "If I told you that I saw the face of Bellatrix Lestrange last night, would you believe me?"

There was a bang, as the lid to the tea kettle snapped shut. Hermione, her back still to Harry, braced herself with both hands on the kitchen counter.

"Why would you say such a thing." She whispered, still facing away from him.

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry – but please, would you believe me?"

She came to sit facing him again, her pale face completely bloodless. "Yes, I suppose I would have to believe you" she answered wearily.

"I'm sorry." Harry repeated. Hermione was more fearless a girl than most, but Harry remembered –belatedly of course – her fear of anything to do with the resurrection stone. Swallowing back, bad memories, he moved to sit beside her. Putting an arm around her he said gently.

"Well, don't worry. It wasn't her." And he told her the whole story. The note, the meeting in the garden, her treacherous face and the bargain she struck with him.

Hermione's mind was working fast. "But I don't understand. What does any of this have to do with Ginny fleeing to Hogwarts?"

Harry opened his mouth, but a voice from the stairwell answered for him.

"I saw him with her, struggling against the wall. I didn't see her face, and I didn't understand." Ginny emerged into the kitchen, as white faced as Hermione and as tired as Harry.

There was an awkward silence where Ginny knew Hermione was judging her stupidity. No one was perfect though. Harry had understood. She had been the first victim, taken in in such a way that nobody else had. It was not her fault that her heart harboured doubts and refused to give itself over to trust. He had told her as much.

Mercifully, Hermione said nothing and went back to tending the stove. Soon the kitchen was crackling with the sounds of sizzling bacon and eggs. The wafting aromas of breakfast soon heralded the entrance of Ron into the kitchen, stretching and yawning. The story was explained once again. Another bloodless face at the mention of Bellatrix. Another question as to why this had anything to do with Ginny's flight. Another hurried and increasingly embarrassed explanation. Ron fixed his sister with a dark and disbelieving look that clearly read "Ginny-you're-a-prat" before tucking into his scrambled eggs.

" Well." Ron started, through a mouthful of toast. "Well the question is now. If she wasn't Bellatrix – which she wasn't - then who is she?"

Ginny toyed with her bacon. She did not much like to take part in this conversation. She didn't care who the woman was, and she would be happy to never speak of her again if it meant she could forget the terrible accusations she had curled at Harry along with half her childhood glass figurines. "Right." She said pushing herself away from the table. "I'm going to go send a few owls." And she retreated back up the stairs without another word. Harry watched her go, thoughtfully.

"Well," started Harry, reluctantly turning back to the conversation. "Andromeda looks a great deal like Bellatrix... You don't suppose Tonks had a sister we never knew about?"

"But that's just it, Harry." Started Hermione, unable to suppress the logic that ruled this out. "Why would we have never known about her, then? And why would she need to approach you so secretively?"

The three of them exchanged feeble ideas between them. Each sounding more half-hearted than the last before Ron opened his mouth. "Say...You don't think...," he started through another mouthful of egg, "You don't think Bellatrix had a ..."

"RIGHT." Interjected Hermione, frowning despite her once again pale face. With a shaking hand, she cleared their plates away with one swoop of her wand and set them washing themselves in the sink.

"Well there's no point in speculating too much over it. Its not going to get us anywhere." She stated firmly over the soft clinking of dishes behind them.

"What we really need to decide now is whether or not Harry is going to meet this girl again." She pressed, with a tone of finality on her voice.

"Hermione." Said Harry quietly. "I gave her my word."

"So?" demanded Hermione, flaring up, as she rolled up her sleeves and plunged her arm into the sink. "So what? This is Bellatrix Lestrange we're dealing with here!"

"But Hermione." Harry started again quietly. "It isn't Bellatrix. Bellatrix is dead."

The timing of her interjection was not lost on Harry. She had more of a right to be scared than either of them, having been personally subjected to Bellatrix's own special brand of cruelty. Hermione twitched the left sleeve of her dressing gown nervously, looking defeated at the reality Harry had pointed out.

"We aren't going to know unless I go. That's all there is." Said Harry, standing and turning to make his way out. "Thanks for the breakfast, Hermione."

* * *

It was late afternoon, and that of course meant that the sun, should it choose to make its appearance, would be hanging low in the December sky. It was one of those rare times and Harry, feeling the need to clear his head with some cold air, was sitting out at the edge of the Weasley's frozen over pond, a jar of Hermione's specialty blue flames in front of him. He sat, watching his breath come in cloudlike puffs, pulling his woollen cloak more tightly around himself. He had been sitting here for over an hour, in blissful isolation. It was short-lived but Harry didn't mind - he sensed a pair of eyes at his back.

"Come sit, Ginny." He said, without turning, but loud enough for her to hear from her vantage point. Ginny had been standing there, watching from a few metre's distance, wondering whether she ought to disturb him.

"Ever-weather Blanket. One of George's more practical novelty items; its quite cozy and dry." He said, smiling up at her.

Lowering herself on the blanket and getting comfortable, Ginny asked "How did you know it was me?"

"Auror, remember?" Harry replied with a sarcastic smirk.

This was a joke of course. Harry was a little bit obsessive over not counting his chickens before they hatched. He refused to let others refer to him as an Auror until his training was complete – an endearing, but rather annoying trait he had developed. Though they all, herself included, rolled their eyes at this, Ginny understood it was more than just Harry being annoying. He, like most of them, found it so hard to believe in the normalcy of their lives. It was hard for Harry to fathom his own happiness. Hard for him to accept, sometimes, that he was truly going to be an Auror; that after all he had been through, this simple boyhood dream of his was to be realized.

Ginny suppressed a shudder that had little to do with the cold. How easily they had all fallen to their doubts. Harry had been angry with her at first and she didn't blame him.

"Cold?" Harry asked. "Come here" he said, unravelling his cloak and inviting her to settle in against his body. Rewrapping his cloak around them both, they sat in silence for a while.

"I'm sorry." Repeated Ginny. "I'm sorry for not believing you."

Harry silenced her with a kiss, remembering the vow he had made her the night before.

"Not your fault." He answered gently, echoing the words he spoke last night.

It was not her fault. Who could blame her for not being able to trust? Harry had promised her he would never again hold her to blame after she confessed to him that only Tom Riddle had ever been able to make her feel betrayed in that way before. Harry promised her, he would do whatever it took, and wait patiently as long as he had to until she could wholly and fully trust beyond the shadow of a doubt.

And this was why he was an Auror – almost. What started as a boyish dream of having an undoubtedly 'cool' job turned into a more serious ambition after Voldemort's death. They were all a little bit broken. How could he rest, leaving it up to someone else to guarantee their protection? How could someone else do the work in order for his friends and family to slowly –inch by inch – grow to trust in their own safety?

"You're going to meet with her, aren't you." Ginny stated, no accusation in her voice.

"I have to." Replied Harry, wearily. "Not just because I said I would. I have to know that she is no threat to you or to any of us."

"And if she is a threat?" Ginny's voice was small.

Harry felt a fierce urge to protect his family. "Then its better that we know now."

Ginny nuzzled closer into the warmth that Harry's body provided. It would always be this way. This were completely different from how they had been, and yet parts were exactly the same. Feeling Harry's arms tighten around her, Ginny relaxed into his body. She would take what she could get.

* * *

A.N. Chapter finito :) Hope you enjoyed, review if you liked :)


	10. Ill Fated

A.N. Many thanks to those that were kind enough to review :) I hope that you are enjoying the story enough to keep reading! You will find that this chapter is a little bit smaller than most ( but don't worry it's like that for a reason :P), and a little bit different in tone and subject. Hope you enjoy and hope you review even if you didn't.

Chapter 10: Ill Fated

If there was one thing that I had ever wanted, it had always been someone else's face. Sometimes, I feel like wearing a tag that reads_ "My name is Calliope Black, and I can assure you with the greatest confidence that I am indeed real_." Such a sign would clear up two of the biggest misconceptions that surround my existence: No, I am not my mother and yes, my mother's daughter does exist. You could take one look at me, and you would need no father proof – if I was indeed real, then yes , I most certainly was Bellatrix's infamous mudblood daughter.

Cousin Draco needed no further proof; the House of Black was stamped across my face. It was in my heavy lidded violet eyes, my dark and shining hair, the angle of my jaw and the careless beauty so characteristic of the Blacks.

"So you're real."

"Yes, I'm real." I had answered, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice when cousin Draco commented on the validity of my existence. I don't blame him. I had been nothing but a nameless whisper among the Blacks, a hushed and fearful taboo if you held any value to your life.

Sitting in one of Draco's sumptuously comfortable sitting rooms, I began the onerous task of explaining myself.

19 years ago, the Dark Lord fell at the mercy of Harry Potter. The madness of Bellatrix Lestrange was, as the story goes, terrible to behold – there are very few who witnessed the brunt of it and lived to tell the tale. She fled the country in a broken rage, laying a trail of darkness and destruction in her wake. And then she disappeared, the trail went cold. A very faint and hushed voice in history suggests that this is where Bellatrix reached the pinnacle of her insanity. Nobody knows what happened then. Perhaps something had broken in Bellatrix as Voldemort, who's power she so craved and desired, became no more. Perhaps she did it to herself in punishment. The fact of the matter was, I was conceived. Armed with the knowledge of the mud befouling her womb, Bellatrix slit the throat of her child's father and returned to England, a new and more dangerous brand of venom in her veins.

"So then, you mean to say... she carried you then, when she tortured the Longbottoms into madness." Draco asked, hours later.

"Yes." I answered, simply.

"And then?"

"And then we were sent to Azkaban, weren't we? I was born there."

Draco Malfoy let out his breath through his teeth as he listened to the unlikely tale. Rejected and forsaken by my mother, I had been left on the cold stone of our cell to die a slow and painful death. How ironic that I was to be saved by the hooded rattling dementors themselves who could not bear to be in the presence or contact of the innocence and purity of an infant. I had been cast out to sea in the pitch of the night. But I was a witch, and the daughter of a witch with unimaginable skill. No muggle child would've survived but I stayed alive. I had been taken in by a muggle man who lived near the sea's edge. He was simple. He had lost his wife and child to the sea many years ago and believed I was a gift sent to staunch the bloody wound of his heart. It was just him and I. He raised me like his own child, with love. My earliest memory is singing prettily for him, and he laughing with joy. Calliope he would call me, for my singing voice. But as my magic began to appear all around me, the muggle man became scared. His interpretation changed and he believed I was an evil thing, sent to torture him further into the depths of his despair. He sent me to an orphanage. My beauty meant that I was chosen often by parents seeking a child, but my magic and an aura of ill-luck surrounding me meant that I always ended up back in the custody of those cold and desolate orphanages. I worked my way around; the last orphanage I belonged to was in Denmark.

"And then?" Cousin Draco asked.

"And then I gained my majority, and left the orphanage. My magic took me, finally, into the company of wizards. One or two knew my face and I began piecing together the story of my life." I answered, finishing finally.

Draco surveyed me above his wineglass. "There were whispers about you. Quiet, but loud enough for a quiet child to hear..." he smiled, somewhat smugly, "I asked Mother about it one day. Not about your father, just whether you existed."

"And what did she say?" I asked, though I suspected I knew the answer already.

"She struck me across the face. It has been the only time my mother has raised her hand to me. I was told to never ask such a question again."

I sighed. It was the answer I knew would follow. I was hated on all sides. My pure-blooded family would see me dead, rather than acknowledge the shame of my existence. Those that had no sympathy for my mother would see no shame in my half-blood heritage but would hunt me all the same for being my mother's daughter. I had thought my life had been miserable before - passed from family to family, returned, always for a thing I both despised and couldn't understand. I had thought I was just bad luck. I grew, I learned who I was and then came to understand that I _was_ bad luck. I was about as ill-fated as was possible.

"So" Draco intoned slowly. "What is it that you have come for, Cousin."

I thought about my short life, separated into chunks. My horrific birth, a short and loving respite and then misery and cruelty for years. I thought about the weight of the world that pressed against my body when slowly, I learned of the treachery that ran in my blood. I thought about the chasm of darkness that surrounded me, my bad luck appeal. The anger, the grief, the inability to be anything other than what I am. I opened my mouth to try and put words to these thoughts. Try I did, but I found I could not.

A.N. Well there it is! Something a little bit different from what I'm used to writing in this story! Thanks again for reading and hope you return :)


	11. The Meeting

A.N. Hello, again :) I know last chapter was short, so here is the next as speedily as I could. I just want to address a question that** Haley Renee** asked in her review. Technically yes, Calliope is not really a "mudblood" as she has a wizarding mother. But the chapter was from her point of view, and you can see how she might've gotten carried away vilifying her non-magical blood. To her Black side of the family, the thought of Bellatrix mixing with a muggle was too disgusting to contemplate, so to them half blood is probably just as bad as mudblood anyways.

Anyways, without further ado, here is the next chapter!

Chapter 11: The Meeting

It was one of those silent, bitter winter evenings. Cold, but starless; light emanating from but a sliver of the moon. The snow lay in millions of brilliant crystals, all sharp edges glinting in the meagre moonlight. A long gravel path was interrupted by an ornately crafted iron gate. Behind the gate the path curved and widened, ending before an old and venerable looking manor house. A flickering sliver of light from beyond a curtain suggested a fire in the hearth in perhaps what was a sitting room.

A cloaked figure appeared into the picture, his swirling robes disrupting the snow crystals in its wake. No peacocks this time, thought Harry to himself with a grim sort of amusement. He pulled his hood against the cold and set off down the path, trying to suppress memories of the last time he had walked up the way to a Malfoy manor house. The gates swung open unbidden at his approach and closed behind him as he made his way to the house. A pair of heavy silver knockers in the shape of a coiled serpent guarded the set of doors. Harry raised his hand to knock, but before he could get anything out, the doors burst open to reveal a very old and bored looking butler accompanied by a buffet of pleasantly warm air.

"Mr. Harry Potter" the butler intoned as Harry lowered his hood. "Mr. Draco Malfoy and the Lady Black will see you in the drawing room. He turned and began mounting a curving staircase. Harry followed, feeling oddly lonely. It had been tough, to say the least, for him to shake Ron, Hermione and Ginny off. Ever since the letter arrived, inked in violet ink on the finest heavy vellum, the issue of who was to accompany Harry had been the source of several rows, mostly between him and Ron. Ron fully supported the decision to leave the girls behind, but Harry was only able to convince him to stay by suggesting the possibility that perhaps this shadow of Bellatrix was hoping they would both go, leaving the Burrow and the girls unprotected. Harry had thrust all this on Ron in a low and dangerous voice, quiet enough for Hermione and Ginny - who had retreated upstairs in disgust - not to hear. He had no such fears of anyone attacking the Burrow. Even if it were a possibility, he knew Hermione and Ginny were certainly not a pair of damsels in distress, and he certainly didn't fancy them hearing him refer to them as such. There was not much Ron could say to this, and so Harry set off, leaving behind a rather grim and irate household.

"Mr. Harry Potter" the butler announced as he opened the mahogany doors of the drawing room. It was an odd moment for Harry. There was much left unsaid between him and Draco; he knew too much about Draco's reluctance to follow and inability to please his master. If the tables were turned, it was not something he would ever want any of his sworn enemies to know – and yet his mother had saved them all. The love she had for her only son, for what was left of the tatters of her family spared Harry on the night of the last stand, and spared them all. Harry could not pretend that all had been forgiven; their past was too complicated and riddled with darkness. Nevertheless, a moments awkwardness was only made worse as Harry extended his hand. After a very pregnant pause, Draco accepted and reciprocated with a brusque and firm handshake. Self loathing, anger and a glimmer of fear flitted across his face for a fraction of a second before he schooled himself into impassive. "Potter." He drawled, though with considerably less venom than was his custom.

The violet eyed girl was sitting against the back of an armchair, watching with suspicion the exchange before her.

"My cousin, " Draco gestured, "Calliope Black."

The girl moved to the edge of her armchair, her arms wrapped around herself.

"Draco, thank you very much for your courtesy. If it's not too much, could you please allow Harry and I to talk privately?" she asked, her voice much smaller than her mother's ruthless command.

Draco rolled his eyes, looking questioningly at Harry, who shrugged non-committally. "Fine." He said sharply, rising from his chair. "Try not to kill each other, will you? These rugs have been in the family for years and I'd rather not have either of your blood spilled on them." He drawled as he shut the door behind him.

"Alright." Harry said crossing his arms. "What is it that you want from me." He could not manage to keep the bitterness out of his voice; this girl had caused enough damage already.

Calliope had closed her eyes at Draco's words, a slightly pained expression playing across her face. She opened her eyes slowly.

"Wouldn't you rather know who I am, first?"

"You're Bellatrix's daughter; Draco called you 'cousin'." Said Harry, slightly contemptuously. "I'm sure you get this quite often, but you do have the same face as her."

The girl had closed her eyes again, as if wishing she wasn't here. "I am aware, Mr. Potter. And you are correct; I am Bellatrix's daughter, but her husband is not my father."

Harry retreated back against the cushy armchair, re-crossing his arms again. "Who's your father, then?" he asked, a slight edge to his voice. Harry was quiet sure he knew what the answer was, and if it were true, he was not sure what the course of action should be.

The girl stood and crossed the room to face the window. From there she turned and regarded Harry.

"We're not so different, Harry."

In a soft, almost quivering voice, she began to recount her history to Harry. Harry did not interrupt her the entire time, forcing himself to swallow his comments and keep his face unreadable. The only disturbance was a soft knock at the door, partway through. The girl's train of thought faltered as she called for the person to enter. A small and grey house-elf, carrying a gleaming silver tray of tea came through the door. Harry noted the girl's murmured thanks, as she accepted the tea. The house-elf made him a low bow as he accepted his, the reflection of his scar in the orb like eyes of the elf as he rose.

She waited till the elf had left before continuing with her story. Finally she came to the part where, in Denmark, she had taken a risk and written to the most powerful surviving member of the Black Family - the only one that might hold some sympathy for her.

Finally speaking after what seemed an eternity, Harry asked "So... I understand it was a risk for you to reach out to Malfoy, but I still don't understand why you are here."

"Some of my reasons are more selfish than anything else."

"Lets hear them, then." Replied Harry, slightly wearily.

"Can you swear to me that my mother is dead?"

It had not been what Harry was expecting. In fact this whole story of her parentage was rather the opposite of what he had been expecting. Then again, Harry could see no traces of a Tom Riddle on her face, nor any snakelike features.

"Yes. I will swear to you that Bellatrix is dead."

The girl expelled the air in her lungs, for the first time, there was a sparkle of hope in her eyes.

"You are quite sure? You saw it happen."

Harry paused. "Miss Black, I have seen a great many people die for my 20 years, some of them at the hand of your mother. I am quite sure she died. She took a curse to the chest in a duel with a very formidable witch."

Harry was intrigued to see the relief wash over her features. She quelled though, remembering herself.

"Harry," she started slowly. "You might be the only person who understands. You were born into your fate as I was to mine. We cannot choose our parents, nor the legacy they leave us. Whether right or wrong, we have to live with it. I am truly sorry for the losses you sustained at the hand of Bellatrix Black."

Harry did not say anything. Her apology wouldn't bring back Sirius or Tonks; but it something.

"I came here to convince you that we are on the same side of Bellatrix's evil. We have both suffered, and I don't intend to forget it. I came to convince you that you are no enemy of mine, and I would never seek to destroy the peace you have brought."

There was a glint of hope in her eyes at the mention of this newfound peace, but her jaw was set and her face determined. "I cannot live with the guilt of her actions laying upon me any longer. You have my wand; whatever justice you see fit, I hope you serve. It will not settle the score of my mother's evil deeds, but I must at least try or else I could never be at peace."

So that was what she had come for, Harry thought. To hear him condemn her, and receive whatever punishment he dealt – her way of making amends. Harry did not see much wisdom in this. Bellatrix's deeds were her own and no one else's. She alone pays for them.

He reached into his robes and withdrew her wand, holding it with both hands. Calliope closed her eyes, and braced herself for whatever would follow.

Harry threw the wand at her. "Take your wand. I do not require atonement from you. Bellatrix pays for her sins, I am sure of it. Please take your wand, and go. I am sorry for the life you have had, but all the same, I would rather not see your face again. Please go from here, and make your life in Denmark."

* * *

The Burrow - a welcome and beautiful sight. The hour was creeping late into the night, and there was no movement around the house. Harry smiled as he made his way up the path, pushing open the little gate. As soon as he set foot within the perimeter of protective enchantments, the stone door was flung open and a small figure with a mane of red hair streaked out at him.

Harry opened his arms to catch Ginny as she threw herself at him. Harry pressed her close to him, rubbing her back soothingly, murmuring words of comfort. She was not crying, but he could feel her body trembling against his.

"Don't go again, Harry, please... and.. and.. I had to go and argue with you just before you left. Oh.. the waiting, it was awful." She whispered, her cheek pressed against his chest.

Harry could count on one hand the times he had seen Ginny so distressed. Again, an unexpected and inexplicably strong surge of protectiveness rose within him. He waited until her shaking had subsided before disengaging himself from her. Putting an arm around her shoulders he guided her into warm, inviting house.

The others ushered in Harry. Their white faces and shaky, relieved smiles sent a pang though Harry's chest. He had asked a lot from them, when he insisted he go to this meeting alone. It was the cost though - Harry wasn't prepared to let anyone else get hurt because of his judgement, ever again. Any anger that Ron harboured was put aside and they listened to Harry's story with wide eyes until the small hours of the morning.

* * *

Ron had stood up, about an hour earlier, with a lion of a yawn, stretching his arms in the air and declaring that he was going to bed. Hermione, who was looking rather bleary eyed said goodnight too and followed him up the rickety staircase, leaving Harry and Ginny alone in the Weasley's sitting room. Harry was stretched out on the sofa, with Ginny curled up next to him. Absentmindedly running his fingers through her fiery locks, Harry was lost in thought. He felt like he had little control over the events of the night. He could not forgive Bellatrix and would never. But at the same time, how could he blame her daughter for being who she is? It was true, Harry had had a miserable and neglectful youth, but he had a family, no matter how misguided. And since his eleventh birthday, though married with some of his worst memories, the best years of his life had followed. Calliope had known nothing but misery. Things would've been different if she had meant a threat, but Harry saw in her that bone-weary look of having lived too much of too miserable a life. It was that same look he saw in Draco Malfoy, in glimpses of himself sometimes. That was all he needed to know to be sure that neither of them was interested in breaking the peace that they all so tentatively savoured.

Harry looked down at Ginny to see her brown eyes closed. This was his little bit of peace. Who would've thought such a fiery, temperamental and spirited being could've brought such a sense of calm to his life. She looked every picture of calm now, though. Dark, thick eyelashes, and a smattering of freckles across her cheekbones. Harry shifted his weight beneath him, freeing his legs and carefully, so carefully, slid his arms under her knees and back. Ginny shifted in her sleep to allow Harry to carry her, her generous lips slightly parted in the oblivion of sleep. Harry turned sideways to fit the both of them up the stairs. Harry reached her landing and opened the door to her room noiselessly. Creeping as quietly as he could across her sometimes creaky floorboards, Harry lowered her gently into her bed. She seemed to awaken slightly as a little smile spread across her lips. Harry kissed her softly and gently, marvelling at how magnificent the feel of her lips on his were. He was tempted to get in beside her, but Ron's parents would be returning from their holiday in the morning and he would rather not risk having to test this particular rule.

Closing the door behind him, Harry could not help but wonder at how lucky he was to have her. Mounting the shaky stairs once again, Harry stumbled into his own bedroom, sleep beginning to take hold of him. He stripped down and got under the cozy covers of his bed. Harry slept another blissful, dreamless night.

A.N. Well there it is. I hope this chapter was satisfying :) As things stand right now, I have plans to bring Calliope back, to some capacity, though not anytime soon. I would appreciate any feedback you have on her as a character. And of course on the story in general. The story is about to get a little more lighthearted again, so stay tuned, if that's your thing :)


	12. Plans

A.N. Hello all :) Thank you to **Haley Renee and to DutchIcePrincess** for your reviews and thank you to everyone that added this story to their favorites and alerts! This chapter takes a more lighthearted tone, i'm sure you'll notice. You might also notice that we are celebrating Victoire's birthday in MAY as opposed to in December as I originally wrote in a previous chapter. The reason for this is that at the time I wrote that chapter the almighty JK had not specified when the oldest Weasley grandchild was born. SO please ignore what's mentioned before, I am going to get around to updating the old chapters ASAP. Along the same lines, you will notice that Chapter 1 will from now on have some slight changes to it. Nothing that changes the story at all... just things that have changed in my writing style over the last FOUR years :) Well that's all for now, folks :)

Chapter 12: Plans

"RON! For the last time, would you please bring your washing down? I'm not about to go sorting through that pig's sty you call a room." Ginny called over her shoulder as she swung her long hair out of her face.

The four of them had all moved out of the Burrow a few months past. Mrs. Weasley was quite distraught to have her youngest two children grown up and out of the house for good, but it was about time; the Burrow was in need of a thorough remodelling and it was much easier with the lot of them out of the house. Ginny was the only one, for now, earning a generous salary. Harry had enough to easily support himself, but until Ron and Hermione were firmly on their feet, it was another pretty little rented cottage for the four of them. This one was a little way's off of Diagon Alley and quite convenient for Harry and Ron to get to the Ministry. Year two of Auror training was cracking up to be double the workload that year one was. As a result, they were all taking it in turns to do the household chores though admittedly with Ginny and Hermione doing the lion's share. It was Ginny's turn to do the washing and she was carrying a hamper loaded with her and Hermione's clothes. She rather disagreed with this rule, citing that the boys should be taking it in turns to do their own washing. Then again, that was rather unfair to Harry, as Ron always procrastinated endlessly when it was his turn. Ginny absentmindedly swung Harry's semi ajar bedroom door open as she backed in carrying the hamper.

She couldn't help but release a rather un-Ginnyish giggle as she saw Harry facing away from her, cranking out pushups on his bedroom floor. It was spring, and the end of June would mean another gruelling Auror Examination for Harry and Ron. This one included a sort of obstacle course that tested not only magical skill and knowledge, but also strength and agility. They reckoned that Harry would be good for agility and Ron would be alright for strength and so Harry - unlike Ron who sagely maintained that agility is something you're born with, not something you can achieve – was doing whatever he could in his spare time to improve.

Harry tended to take this Auror thing rather seriously.

Ginny dropped the hamper and crossed Harry's room to lay stretched out on his bed, her hands propping up her chin, a very mischievous look on her face.

"Oh its you," Harry grimaced, pausing to look up at her on the bed. "Hope you don't mind if I finish." He smirked.

"Not at all, not at all." Ginny said in mock dreamy tone. Well this was nice. She had a lovely view of his bare upper body from her vantage point and was rather enjoying it. Harry eventually slowed down, occasionally pausing at the top, husbanding his strength for a few more. When Harry was no longer able to keep proper form, he stopped. By then, Ginny was laying on her back, dangling her head over Harry's bed, regarding him upside down.

"Well, aren't you a delicious sight." Ginny laughed as she sat up in bed, and Harry stood up.

"What, this?" Harry spread his arms, laughing.

"Oh come _here_." She replied, now on her back and drawing Harry to her. Harry smiled innocently at her as he settled on top, his arms supporting his weight.

"Mmmmm... speaking of delicious" Harry murmured, inhaling her familiar scent. Ginny wriggled a little under him, crossing her arms above her head.

"So, how many this time, Desirable Number One? She asked lazily from under him.

Undesirable Number One. The past was absurd – absurd and so so far away...

"42." He said, "but its an improvement"

"I'm sure it's worth it," replied Ginny, "you and Ron have been studying so hard, you would've thought the two of you were channelling Hermione. And besides," she reached up to sink her hand in his shoulder, biting her lip rather coyly, "I rather enjoy it."

Harry only nuzzled her collarbone, pressing his lips against her creamy skin. But just then he was interrupted - by Ron flinging open the door to his bedroom.

"Oi, Ginny, here you go." He said depositing a heap of clothes on the hamper. Spying the pair of them on the bed, Ron proceeded to turn a deep and brilliant shade of red, as he pointedly averted his eyes.

"For Merlin's sake!" he said in disgust before retreating and shutting the door behind him with more force than necessary.

"That's what you get for not knocking before you enter, brother dear!" called Ginny at his retreating back

Ginny heaved a happy sigh, twining her arms around Harry's neck and kissing him sweetly on the lips. "Well, I better get this washing done, now. Think you could take an hour or two off of studying after dinner for a broomride?" she asked, as she stood up from the bed.

"For you, of course." Answered Harry, catching her hand and kissing the underside of her wrist, her charm bracelet tinkling softly.

* * *

Ron knocked on Hermione's bedroom door before allowing himself in. He took one look at Hermione. Buried behind a mountain of parchment and books, she had a quill stuffed behind her ear, a book open in front of her and a bowl-sized mug of cold tea on her right. Books were strewn open all over the table, and bits of parchment littered the table. Ron felt himself smile despite himself, his dour mood disappearing. The scene was just so heart-warmingly familiar. Hermione and her genius surrounded by utter chaos – just how she liked it.

"Can I help you with anything?" she asked without taking her eyes off the book, a smile creeping through despite her best efforts.

"Yeah, actually." Said Ron, now grinning. "Can you please marry me?"

Hermione looked up at Ron, a mixture of exasperation and bemusement in her face. She walked over to join him sitting on her bed.

"I _am_ marrying you. I thought we had already established that, didn't we?"

"Yeah.. but like how about now? Lets get married now."

Hermione laughed. "Ron," she said leaning her head against him, "What exactly is all this about?"

"Nothing, I dunno ... I just love you." Ron answered, absentmindedly tracing circles on Hermione's thigh. "You make me smile, even when I'm in a bad mood. I don't want to wait any more. "

Hermione felt her heart twist; she reached up and kissed Ron's lips, lingering for just a second. "I love you too. If you want to get married now, we can get married now. Call up Harry and Ginny; Harry can preside over the ceremony and Ginny can be the witness."

"I don't mean right this instant," Ron joined her in laughing " I just mean soon."

"Okay." Said Hermione softly, kissing him again. "Lets get married soon. Do you fancy a summer wedding or a winter wedding?"

"I fancy a happy bride. Whatever you want, love."

Hermione's heart twisted even tighter. Ron. How did he always undo her like this? He had grown up so much; it surprised her every time, those words of consideration, comfort and love spoken in his familiar deep voice.

"Well, then if you would wait, I would rather a winter wedding. More time to plan. Besides," she added, her cheeks flushing the palest pink "I've wanted to get married in the winter since I was a child."

"Done." Said Ron, happily. "Glad you haven't changed your mind on me, yet."

"Never"

"I'll take that."

Ron kissed her one last time before rising from the bed. Turning around at Hermione's doorframe, he was met with Hermione's rather sharp and suspicious stare. "How's your studying, going hmm?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Its going. Don't worry, will you? I actually enjoy learning this stuff."

Hermione wasn't actually worried. Ron was going to make a great Auror; Kingsley had already said he was the best young strategist they had seen for many many years.

"Okay, let me know when you need my help."

* * *

"More pudding, dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley, fondly as she tipped a second serving onto Harry's plate.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley." Harry grinned, knowing that resistance was futile.

It was an uncharacteristically warm May evening, and everyone was gathered at the Burrow for a celebratory birthday dinner in honour of Victoire Weasley's first birthday. It was mainly just an excuse for the old crowd to get together and enjoy a pleasant evening; Victoire, though alert and happy, gave no indication of any knowledge that today was her special day. Although there was light heartedness and unfettered laughter now, there had been a sombre period during this day as well - Victoire's birthday coincided with the anniversary of Hogwart's Last Stand.

The Weasleys, accompanied by Harry and Hermione as well as Andromeda – and for the first time Teddy - visited the Order of the Phoenix Memorial Gardens. Some might've thought that three was too young for Teddy to be involved but Harry understood. To not have parents was an awful thing, but Harry knew there was comfort in knowing their deaths served a purpose. Perhaps he was too young to understand the gravity of what it meant, but Teddy could grasp the solemnity of the occasion, and to some extent understand that Mama and Papa had loved him very much thought they were gone, far out of reach. Andromeda's hands guided her grandson's as they laid a wreath of violets at the grave. Harry saw her wipe a tear from her cheek as she turned away from the grave. Rising from her son's tombstone, Mrs. Weasley embraced Andromeda, tears freely flowing down her face. They were two women that had buried their children. It was a terrible thing; they both knew how keenly the blade of grief cut.

Perhaps it was a good thing, that little Victoire had chosen this day a year ago to make her debut in the world. Remus and Tonks, Fred, Mad-Eye, all of them had died for the right to freedom and happiness. None of them would've wanted for anyone to spend the entire day mourning over their decaying remains. And so, Victoire was the joy-bearer.

Trampling around the Weasley's yard later that day, Bill and Fleur's little girl was as pretty and joyful as any one year old could be. She had Fleur's beautiful complexion, but with a head of silvery red hair in which a bright blue bow was tied. She was currently amusing Hermione and Ginny, the three of them laughing on a blanket on the grass. Harry regarded them affectionately over the rim of his wineglass. He was full from Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking and was lazily watching his turquoise haired Godson try and evade George on his toy broomstick. The toy had been a gift from Harry only a month ago, but already Teddy had a good grasp on how to manoeuvre it. Andromeda had assured Harry, rather happily, that it seemed that Teddy had not inherited Tonk's lack of gracefulness. Harry grinned, wondering what position Teddy would favour on the Quidditch Pitch.

Life was perfect. Well almost – there was one more thing Harry needed in his life before it was quite perfect. He wasn't afraid anymore. So strange to think that the thought of confronting this new and beautiful life he had ahead of him was almost as scary as facing the darkness that laid behind them. In those dark days, he had felt like he had nothing to lose. Lies, of course. Riddle had been the one with nothing left to lose, Harry had everything – something that only made sense to him now.

But now, darkness faced and fought, Harry truly felt like he had everything. For a while, that realization was accompanied by a desperate fear of losing it all. You will never lose, if you don't have anything to lose. But what kind of existence is that? Harry thought back to the pathetic and mutilated being, mewling in pain and desperation under a bench at his King's Cross Station. Harry did not fight so that he could live in fear. His friends did not die so that he would put restrictions on the joy in his life. It was cowardly. He was ready, this was it.

"Mr. Weasley?" Harry rose to stand beside Ron's father who had just bidden Kingsley Shacklebolt farewell. "Do you think I could have a word? Perhaps inside?"

Mr. Weasley couldn't help but look slightly alarmed, for Harry didn't usually request private audiences with him, not since those dark days.

"Of course, Harry."

Mr. Weasley lead Harry into the empty sitting room, shutting the screen behind him. He sat down facing Harry and conjured up two goblets of wine between them.

Harry wasn't exactly nervous, but then again, this was a rather important moment in his lifetime.

"Mr. Weasley, you and Mrs. Weasley have always treated me as if I were one of your sons from day one." Harry paused, not quite sure how to get the rest out.

Mr. Weasley smiled, he had a vague idea where this conversation was headed but didn't see the particular need to help Harry along. "Well, Harry, Ron could never have asked for a more loyal friend and for what you've done for our family, Molly and I certainly do consider you one of ours."

"I'm really honoured that you think of me so warmly. This family is like my own." Answered Harry, now squirming. He didn't know how to get to the last part ... unfortunately that was the important bit. He settled for take a sip of his wine. He didn't think it would be this difficult, damn Hermione!

"Mr. Weasley, I would like to marry Ginny." Harry blurted, emotion tumbling over tongue. "I mean – Mr. Weasley, I love your daughter very much. I would lay down my life for her, and I mean that. I am asking for your blessing, and for permission to make Ginny my wife." He finished, feeling slightly more composed.

Mr. Weasley sipped his wine and studied Harry over his glass, smiling not unkindly. If anyone was in a position to talk about what it means to lay down their life, it was certainly Harry Potter. Arthur was rather sure that he wasn't being flippant either; it was plain to see that his youngest child, his little girl, seemed to have made an unrelenting impression on Harry's heart.

"Tell me, please, Harry; why do you love my daughter?"

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. Oh Gods. Think quick! Did he, Harry, honestly think that Mr. Weasley was about to surrender his only daughter so easily? Harry took a steadying breath, remembering that this wasn't an Auror exam and that he certainly wasn't going to have to do any hard thinking to describe why he loved his redheaded girl.

"Ginny is ... the most beautiful girl I've ever known." Harry paused here for effect, clearing his throat slightly – this was no lie, "However, beside her spirit and her warm heart, her looks pale in comparison to the beauty inside her."

Okay, it was a little bit corny, thought Harry. But it was true, that's how he felt.

"Ginny is her own woman; she doesn't need a man guiding her. I would never try to smother her or try to control her. I just want to live out my life next to her, to give her every comfort in the world that I can give her and to share a peaceful life."

Arthur stood up at this point, and Harry abruptly followed. Mr. Weasley smiled at him and extended his hand.

"No father could ask for better than you, for his daughter, Harry." He said as he shook Harry's hand, pulling him into an embrace. "You have my blessing, though you've always had a place in his family. I'm glad to make good on it."

Harry laughed out loud, slightly giddy with joy and wine.

"Have you asked her yet?"

"No, not yet. But I certainly will soon, before she changes her mind on me!"

"Not to worry, Ginny's rather obstinate, she hasn't changed her mind on you since age 11. I'll just tell Molly then, and leave it at that? She wouldn't forgive me if I didn't share the news. We can keep a secret, though"

"Of course, of course," Harry answered, still lightheaded with joy. He shook Mr. Weasley's hand again and thanked him profusely before heading out the door.

Mr. Weasley heaved a sigh and removed his glasses. He felt old. His youngest two were getting married, that was enough to make any parent feel old. It was a fairly pleasant feeling though; Harry and Hermione, already part of the family as far as he was concerned, would be enough to make any parent content. Still, when did all of this happen? Wasn't it just yesterday that he squatted down to his little daughter's eye level, her tiny hand in his, to show her the ducks on the pond? Could it have been really that long, since Fred – oh his Fred – turned little Ron's teddy into a giant spider?

It was no longer his purpose here to protect his children, they were young, but they were adults in their own right and had been for some time. It was true, you couldn't ask for a better boy than Harry for your daughter. Not because he was Harry Potter, not in the least. But because he was just Harry, in many ways, still that polite and humble boy asking for directions his first time at Platform 9 ¾. He was a good match for his hot headed daughter and Arthur knew he would go to the ends of the earth to keep Ginny safe and happy. You certainly can't do much better than that. Mr. Weasley smiled indulgently thinking of how happy this news would make his wife. The two of them had had such little to be happy for until recently, and now – well, life was a blessing.

* * *

A.N. Annnnd there it is. If you enjoyed please **remember to review :)** My looming exam heads closer and closer and I must admit to you, dear reader, that I am much more inclined to find time for writing when I know that there is someone reading. That said, thanks for reading, so long and thanks for all the fish!


	13. A Piece of the Past

**A.N**. Hello readers :) Firstly, a bit THANK YOU to all the people that reviewed chapter 12. Believe me, your kind words mean a lot to me, and are wonderful encouragement to continue this story. I know it's been a little bit since there's been an update... but I'm actually surprised that there's even an update happening at all! We are down to T minus 2 days till the doomsday exam. I probably should've been studying but I really needed to get this chapter off my chest. I definitely hope that you enjoy and that you remember to **review please :)**

Chapter 13: A Piece of the Past

Sometimes, George felt burried under the burden of being funny. The role of the Weasley twins was never meant to be a one man act, especially when the lone man left sometimes had to double check that he truly was the twin that lived, and not the twin that died. Humour and mischief had always been a double act for the two of them and consequently George found himself floundering at times; sometimes he would start a joke and would find himself waiting for Fred to deliver the punchline. George's ghostly attempt at humour would fade away before his very eyes, an almost offensive silence that only he could hear would follow. That silence, it was the space where the shadow of his other half still restlessly lingered.

It was not quite always like that. In fact, much of the time he felt nearly himself. But there were days when he had to ask whether he had been the one stunned and defeated or whether it was his brother. That vibrancy in life, that not even the rise of Voldemort could destory, had been demolished when Fred fell. He never let the family on; they would be devastated. How cruel fate had been to the Weasleys. Of all the children to take, Death took for himself the one that was tied to a constant living breathing reminder. George saw it now, sometimes, in the way people looked at him and saw instead his dead brother. That was life though, people had confused them since day one.

George regarded the redhead staring back at him in the mirror. He looked good, for someone in his position. Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was still doing exceptional business. He still wore Dragonskin jackets and pretty girls still laughed at his jokes, allowing themselves to be persuaded into a drink or two at his expense. He was still, at his best, the life of the party and the center of attention. He was still himself – mostly.

George downed the last drop of his firewhisky, slamming the glass back on the bathroom counter. Tonight, he was taking out Angelina. On these nights, he always felt he needed a little something before their dates, just to calm his nerves (a non-issue in the past) and to make him feel more George Weasley –like. If you were taking out your dead twin's old flame, you might feel the same way too. They weren't exactly _seeing each other_, they were just... seeing each other. They were themselves when they were together, laughing and joking; only rarely did the memory of Fred linger between them. She was a good thing, George had decided. Enter Firewhiskey – what was the big deal anyways, if he needed a little bit of loosening up in order to keep her laughing? He would rather her in his life than out, and if that's what it took then who could argue with that.

He didn't want to go. He never wanted to go out with Angelina, but he knew that once he was there in the crush of anonymous bodies surroudning them at a noisy pub, or under the blanket of darkness in a cinema he would feel better. One more, just for luck. George tipped back another shot and gathering his senses together, swept out of his lonely little flat.

* * *

Harry pressed his back against the narrow wall of crumbling stone. His eyes, by now, had adjusted to the darkness and he could just make out the faint outline of Ron, pressed equally close to the wall beside him. Ron cupped a hand over his lit wand, stifling its luminesence to a point were they could just make out the last safe point 10 metres ahead behind the next disintegrated wall. They were probably being tracked. One sudden movement out of place, one noise or spark would make their escape nearly impossible.

"What now?" Asked Ron, whispering under his breath as quietly as his deep voice would allow.

Harry looked up and in all directions, searching for a shred of inspiration. Time was ticking.

"I dunno, what do you think?" Harry asked slowly, quietly and trying making as little movement as possible.

"Well," said Ron surveying their bleak surroundings, "you suppose we should just make a run for it? We could probably make it, maybe even in one piece."

"Yeah, lets go." Said Harry bracing himself. He paused though; something was wrong. The colour had gone from Ron's face, and his expression was fixed in a horrified mask, gazing over Harry's shoulder. Harry whipped around, his wand at the ready only to see Hermione, walking towards them dressed in a beautiful white gown and veil, her hair drawn into an elegant bun. Her face was waxy and pale, her features arranged into a blank and empty expression. There was a trickle of deep red blood at the corner of her mouth. Harry hesitated, the beginnings of a hex still on his tongue. She walked as if she didn't see the two of them but upon reaching them she stopped and turned to look at Ron, a devastatingly imploring look in her eyes. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. Her legs gave out and she collapsed into Ron's arms. Ron who was utterly immobilized had to swallow back a mouthful of bile as the nape of Hermione's neck and her delicate back were reavled by her gown. The word _Mudblood_ was carved into her flesh and the too familiar hilt of a short bloody knife protruded from between her shoulder blades.

The whole exchange had taken less than a few seconds but suddenly Harry understood.

"Ridikulus!" He cried - albeit with no image in his head of how to make the violated Hermione-Boggart into something less awful . He threw himself between Ron and Hermione and with a resounding _CRACK _Harry found himself face to face with a foul smelling towering dementor. Harry gasped for breath, as he tried to wedge his wand between him and the Dementor which was nearly on top of him. Ron, who was considerably less incapacitated by the dementor than Harry had been by Hermione's lifeless form, aimed his wand squarely at the Boggart and cried "Ridikulus!" from where he was sprawled on the ground.

"Harry, look! It's up there!" The dementor was now swirling around the two of them in a perfect balroom waltz, an imaginary partner between it's outstretched arms. There it was, hidden in a crevice in the crumbling wall several fet above them, a golden bell the size of a quaffle. _Once you spot the bell, and you've decided to make a go for it, no magic allowed. "_Ron! You're going to have to boost me up!" Harry cried as stood beneath crack in the wall, trying to guage the distance he'd have to jump to reach a narrow wooden beam that was level with the crack.

Ron, who was being approached by a huge Aragog sized spider hauled himself out of the way throwing a "Ridikulus" over his shoulder before coming to join Harry beneath the beam.

"Ready?" Ron asked, crouching and bracing his hands for Harry's foot.

"Alway, lets go!" replied Harry, grimly. "Three, two, ONE!

Harry pushed off and Ron launched him into the air. Harry grabbed ahold of the beam with both hands, feeling wood splintering under his nails. Below him Ron was finishing off he Boggart. Harry willed his beating heart to still. This had to be done carefully. There was no more than about two feet between the beam and the bell in the wall and he was more than 10 feet up . He adjusted himself so that each hand was on either side of the beam and carefully, so as not to lose his grip, swung his feet up to the beam. His muscles protested, at the strain of keeping his grip, and he felt a rivulet of sweat snake down his back. With his ankles crossed, he lifted himself up, so he was lying nearly flat against the underside of the narrow piece of wood. Gritting his teeth against the strain, Harry slowly worked himself the other way around, so that he was laying flat against the top of the beam, his four limbs clutching it for support. He shimmied himself backwards to exactly where the bell was cross from his eyes and lifted his right arm, bridging the gap between crevice and beam. Without looking down, he extended his arm and grabbed the golden cord hanging below the bell. It made a resounding clang, disproportionately loud compared to it's size.

Just as Harry was sure he would not last a second longer on that narrow strip of wood, his surroundings disintigrated around him and he found himself remerging, sprawled on the gleaming floor of one of the larger training rooms at the Auror Headquarters.

"Excellent! Boys, that was Excellent!" exclaimed Proudfoot, the Auror overseeing this portion of the exam. "It looks like you've set a time record" he continued, consulting a large golden pocket watch. "I shall have to inform the Minister!"

"Does that mean we've passed for sure?" asked Ron, dusting himself off as he stood.

"Technically, we have to deliberate over the quality of your spellwork before passing you. But off the record I think the two of you are safe."replied Savage, who had just entered the room. "Well done boys. Get some rest during the break before we start you on the Year 3 material."

Ron whooped as he and Harry exchanged an exuberant high five. They were safe! Just one more year, and one more exam and they could consider themselves Aurors.

* * *

"Hold still Ron!" said Hermione, a bite of impatience in her voice as they both sat at their little kitchen table. "I want to make sure all the venom is out." she added, running her wand over a gash above his eyebrow, courtesy of a particularly vicious Venemous Tentacula that accosted him from behind during the exam. "There" she said, as she closed his wound. "Good as new!"

Ron smiled at her, giddy with joy at their sucess and at the sight of his girl, whole and unharmed. "Why are you smiling like that?" Hermione asked bemused. Ron chose not to answer but instead cupped her face in his large hand, kissing her soft lips sweetly. "Nothing, you're the best, is all." He answered.

"How do your parents feel about the date?" he asked, changing the subject before Hermione could ask more questions.

"Oh, they replied right away. They are more than happy and are making plans to return from Australia now... my dad is rather excited to meet you properly."

Ron gulped slightly nervously. He didn't know a whole lot about Hermione's parents. She had assured him, however, that they did indeed know much about him, and approved of their engagement.

"Relax" she said, reading his face. "They love you already."

Ron relaxed a bit, kissed his future bride on the cheek and stood, stretching in a formidable yawn. "I'm knackered. I think I'll have a bit of a kip, come join if you get bored." He announced before making his way to his room, yawning all the while.

Bored. Honestly? Who gets bored when there's a wedding to plan? Hermione mused, fondly; wedding or two. A wide smile split her face at the prospect of her best friends getting married. She was sure Harry was nearly ready to pop the question. It had been a few weeks ago that he had paid her a visit in her room.

As usual, Hermione was at her desk, buried under her paper work when Harry had knocked at her door one night after supper.

"Come in. Oh, its you, Harry." She had answered as Harry walked in.

Harry settled himself on the edge of her bed, before replying. "Hermione, I think this Fiddly boss of yours is overworking you – what's the point in you working regular office hours if you're bringing home work to do every night?"

Hermione smiled wanly, she was tired. True, she was tired and also true that there was no way Harry was actually here to discuss her work schedule. "This isn't for Fittlejug, its for Hawthorne. Don't worry, will you? This is just some extra stuff I want to get ahead with. But what is it that I can do for you, Harry?"

Harry fidgeted a little uncomfortably. "I need your advice on something."

"Regarding...?" said Hermione, when Harry seemed reluctant to continue any further.

"Regarding a decision I have to make" said Harry, steeling himself. "Well a decision that has to do with Ginny and I." He continued, slightly rambling "It's just that it's going to probably matter to her the rest of our lives and I don't want to do the wrong thi—"

"Oh Merlin" She interjected slowly, "When is she due?" Hermione asked, her eyes closed.

There was a hollow silence which Harry didn't quite know how to fill.

"Er... NO. No, no no.. nobody is due, nothing's due." Said Harry slightly alarmed. "Well I mean, that's not to say it would be a problem if something was due, it is the 21st century after all, it's just that its not.. right now..."

"... Is not the right time, right. Understood. Sorry about that, you were saying?" Hermione finished for him.

"It's this." Said harry, standing to fish a little velvet box out of his pocket. He handed it to Hermione, gesturing for her to open it.

Hermione let out a small gasp at the glittering ring in the box. "Oh Harry..." she said softly.

"What do you think of it? Do you think she'll like it?"

"Its breathtaking." Hermione murmured.

"It's apparently been in the Potter family for years." Replied Harry, relieved that Hermione seemed to like it. "My dad gave it to my mother when they got engaged."

"I don't understand, though," said Hermione, turning the ring to catch the light on it. "How did you get this?"

"Long story", replied Harry with a smile.

It had been a long story. Harry had received it from, of all people, Professor McGonnagall. She had sent it carefully wrapped in a package in the post along with a note that explained how it had come into her possession. It had first been sent to Hogwarts in a package addressed to the school through the muggle mail. Of course, there were wizards from the Secrecy Office planted in the muggle postal sorting depot that kept a special eye out for muggles or wizards alike who occasionally sent things via snail mail as opposed to oil post. The package had been sent to Minerva McGonagall's office where, after cross checking it against some serious security spells she had opened it.

Of all unlikely senders, it was from Petunia Dursely, sister of Lily Potter and most unfortunately, Harry's aunt. In the package was a brief handwritten note without greeting or regards. It had said that she, Petunia, had been sent the ring by Dumbledore shortly after Harry had been left on her doorstep. He himself, upon visiting the wreckage of the Potter home in Godric's Hollow had fished it from the devastation. As lily's sole living relative, Dumbledore thought that her sister ought to keep it. Though it didn't say it in her short note, when Petunia had opened the letter and the package containing her little sister's engagement ring, the horrible reality of her death had hit her square in the chest. A mix of terribly complex emotion had welled up inside her empty heart – her sister had been awful, and indeed life had been awful because of her sister. But before all of that, before things had been terrible, she had had a sister, a good one. And undeniably, Lily had always been so _good_. It was what made Petunia's life so miserable when Lily was alive, and it was equally what made Petunia accept Harry when Lily died. It was also what kept her from throwing out the ring, despite her growing anger, nurtured by bitterness and sorrow.

What the note did say, however, was that Petunia was returning the ring back to Harry as she did not want it. There would be no need for Harry to contact her. That was all. After subjecting the ring to the most astringent dark magic detection procedures, Professor McGonagall had rewrapped it and sent by owl to Harry. She had added, in her letter explaining the circumstances of the ring, some information she had uncovered through some persistent inquiring in the right places. The ring, or at least the components of the ring had been in the Potter family for generations. It was traditionally given to the eldest son to present to his wife at their wedding.

Harry had swallowed a lump in his throat as he imagined his father getting down on one knee and asking his mother to marry him with the very ring that he, Harry held in his palm.

"So you don't think it's too old fashioned or anything?" Harry asked Hermione. He was determined to get this right. "I could always have it reworked or whatever into something more modern if this isn't the type of thing that girls like.

"Honestly, Harry." Said Hermione in her familiar acidic tone of voice. "How many witches do you know that you could compare with Ginny?"

"Uh.. just her, really."

"Then what makes you think that Ginny would want a ring that just any witch would want."

"True."

"It's gorgeous. It more importantly it's from your heart. But in the end the decision is yours." Hermione responded, putting the ring back in it's case and sliding it across the desk to Harry.

"Thanks, Hermione, you've been great." He said, standing and squeezing her shoulder.

Hermione waved him off, she rather loved that Harry consulted her with things of this nature. It was passing endearing.

"Oh, Harry... One more thing." She remembered as he was partway out the door.

"Yeah?"

"Did you ask Mr. Weasley for his permission?"

Harry opened his mouth but wasn't entirely sure how to respond. "Er... Should I?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, I think so. It's a formality but its classy and after all, this is Mr. Weasley's only daughter you're trying to marry here."

"Did Ron ask your dad?" Harry asked, slightly bemused.

Hermione directed her eyes at the ceiling. "No, well... it's a different situation, wouldn't you say? My parents are in Australia and have never really met Ron properly. Don't worry though," she added devilishly, "I suspect Ron will have to suffer through much worse awkwardness when he finally meets my parents than you will having to ask Mr. Weasley for Ginny's hand."

"Suppose he says no." Harry wondered aloud in utter sincerity.

Hermione snorted derisively. "Harry, nobody in their right mind would say no to you."

Harry tried to feel reassured as he left Hermione's room, the engagement ring weighing in his pocket.

* * *

**A.N. Et Voila! **Thanks for reading! Tooooo bad you will have to wait just a teensy bit longer to see Harry's proposal. Don't worry I will make it worth the wait! I would love to hear your feedback on this chapter, especially on the action-y scene that I wrote, mainly because its sorta out of the scope of my usual writing topics. Hope you enjoyed, hope you are having a fine last few weeks of summer and also hope that you remember to **review! **


	14. The Almost Empty Pitch

**A.N. Hi Honey, I'm home! **After another lengthy break, I return to the wonderful world of writing. I wonder if anyone will return to this story as I have, but it doesn't really matter to me as I'm super determined to finish it! Still along ways to go though so without further ado, here is chapter 14!

Chapter 14: The Almost Empty Pitch

She was headed directly into the stands, a green and gold dart with flaming crimson hair whipping in her wake. It seemed too effortless as she turned on a dime a mere inches from the wooden framework. The Quaffle landed neatly in her outstretched arm, and without a moment's contemplation she had cleared the area and was tearing through the pitch, darting almost too quickly to see through the opposing team. Within seconds, Ginny Weasley had scored twice, putting them in the lead with a score of 140. Draco schooled his face into impassive amidst the deafening roar of the Holyhead Harpies supporters.

"She's not even that great" Draco's companion chose to sneer at the exact moment that Ginny scored a third spectacular goal.

Draco couldn't help but shoot Pansy a disdainful glare. He wasn't being a terribly courteous date, but all the same Pansy was rather more trouble than he remembered. Draco, unable to tolerate his mother's gentle prodding and meaningful stares had finally succumbed. It's not that his mother had a particular fancy for Pansy, it's just that she longed so deeply to see her only son in the company of an appropriate pure blooded wife. And so he was taking Pansy out. Granted, he would still have his way, Pansy found nothing more boring in the world than Quidditch and Draco knew this. Oh well, he contemplated, there are some perks to being so desired. The cacophonous shriek unleashed by Pansy jarred Draco from his thoughts.

"DAPHNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" squealed Malfoy's date rather unattractively, as she spied their former classmate just a few rows away from them. Pansy abandoned all pretense of watching the game and had gotten up to exchange faux pleasantries with her former roommate Daphne Greengrass. Draco heaved a sigh and got up to say hello. It would be considered the height of rude to ignore a perfectly respectable pureblooded witch and if he did, it would no doubt make its way somehow from Daphne's slack mouth to his mother's sensitive ear. He didn't have to go too far though; Pansy was leading her friend and another witch back to their seats.

"Hello, Daphne" Draco managed, his tone betraying none of his irritation.

"Draco!" she simpered, offering her cheek for him to kiss. "How pleasant to see you again! You remember my sister, Astoria, of course?"

Draco's eyes fell on the petite witch alongside Daphne. No, he did not remember her, actually. She was exquisite. Raven black hair, midnight blue eyes and a smattering of delicate freckles across her cheekbones – no, he had no recollection of this supposed sister. They sat down, the four of them and to Draco's dismay, Pansy and Daphne kept up a constant stream of gossip and insults throughout the entire game's play. Draco stole only enough glimpses at Astoria to see his irritation at the imbeciles between them reflected in her own face. Like him, she was more interested in the match. 

* * *

Long after the pitch had quietened from the deafening roar signalling another Harpy victory, two remained, laughing and talking on a soft blanket spread over the manicured grass. Harry had produced a picnic basket full to the brim with Ginny's favourite dinner to be paired alongside her favourite wine to be enjoyed with her favourite person. The two of them ate the delicious meal that Harry had made (with only minor assistance from Mrs. Weasley) and soaked up the beauty of the pitch at dusk. Calm suffused Ginny as she surveyed Harry between bites of strawberries and cream.

"Did I surprise you?" asked Harry

"You always do. And I always love it" she replied, wholeheartedly meaning it.

Ginny tilted her head up to the darkening sky, reclining back on her elbows. It was an uncharacteristically clear night and already the stars were beginning to show themselves. Harry waved his wand and a dozen tiny spheres of light of hovered around them, casting a warm glow on their faces. The June air was warm and thick with the taste of summer on its way.

The calm Harry exuded from the outside was betrayed by his own racing heart. He willed it to slow, and miraculously, it seemed to obey. Ginny had discarded her leather quidditch guards and boots and had cast off her emerald green robes. She was left in her black quidditch breeches and a closefitting green t-shirt. Harry swept his wand to clear away the remains of their dinner. The twinkling spheres seem to draw a little closer.

Ginny felt her pulse quicken as Harry kissed her softly.

"Enjoyed?" he murmured, drawing away to look in her beautiful brown eyes.

"Always, do." She whispered back, closing the space between their lips once again.

She guided Harry's body on top of hers. Moaning with satisfaction as he settled propped up with one arm. Ginny extended her arms above her head as she always did when she was the most content. Harry softly kissed the exposed and creamy skin of her arms, her neck, running his fingers along her impossibly beautiful collarbone. Ginny arched her back, forcing her chest upwards and creating a space for Harry to slip one arm under her. Harry slid his hand under the hem of her t-shirt, careful not to go too far. He felt the smallness of her waist as he slipped his arm all the way around her. Ginny settled into his strong hold, her hands coming to cup Harry's face as her lips parted under his gentle pressure. Ginny ran a hand along Harry's jaw, feeling the roughness of his 5 o'clock shadow. Their legs intertwined and she moved her hands down Harry's back, feeling firm muscle gliding under his skin as she deepened the kiss. Harry felt like he could never have enough of her. There they were, frozen in time, two figure alone in the middle of the Harpies' quidditch pitch, their pulses racing in time with each other.

Harry lessened the intensity of their kiss, brushing his lips against hers softly before finally pulling away to lie on his back, eyes closed, heart pounding. Ginny let loose an almost involuntary noise of protest as Harry pulled away. He took her hand and continued to kiss it, running the charm bracelet between his fingers as they both looked up into the sky now peppered with stars.

"It's beautiful" she whispered

"You're beautiful" he replied.

Ginny closed her eyes and smiled. What had she done to deserve such goodness in her life?

"Come on, it's getting late." Harry murmured, pulling them both in to a sitting position. "Let's get ready to head back."

"Do we have to?" Ginny asked in a small voice, though they were both standing already.

The stars and the moon shed enough light that the little twinkling spheres were almost not needed, though they bathed them in a warm glow.

"I think we have to." Harry answered quietly. "But there is one more thing, first."

Ginny, who was feasting her eyes on the beautiful quarter moon turned to face Harry but was startled to see him on one knee, her hand in his, his eyes locked with hers.

"Ginny Weasley" he started. Her breath caught in her chest. Her eyes widened and Ginny felt that nervous swoosh in her stomach that happened whenever she dropped in midair on her broom.

"I hope you know I would do anything to keep you safe, to make your life beautiful and to put a smile on your face. I love you, and I want us to be together forever. Would you do me the incredible honour of marrying me?"

Ginny dropped to her knees, put both her hands around Harry's and the tiny velvet box he was holding. She kissed him through her tears.

"Yes" she whispered, "Yes, I will." 

* * *

**A.N. **A relatively short chapter to get back into the groove of things. More than anything, please review if you like this story. Like I said I want to finish it but will be certainly more encouraged to do so if I know someone is out there reading it too! Much love to you for reading this far :)

- Siilverlining


	15. Getting to Know You

**A.N**. Thank you so much for your lovely reviews :) Writing is something I love, but I also love hearing that others are enjoying! Please continue to read on, and offer and suggestions you have! Things are moving a little bit slow at the moment, but in no time there will be plenty of action!

Chapter 15: Getting to Know You

Rays of morning light filtered into the kitchen of the burrow where the scrubbed wooden table had been turned into the work bench of a stationery shop. Two hundred and fifty card and vellum invitations lay in neat little piles in order of completeness. Lengths of silver thread weaved itself through completed cards, and a fine quill copied the same message over and over again onto blank cards in shining midnight blue ink:

_Mr. and Mrs. Richard Granger_  
_request the honour of your presence at the marriage of their daughter_  
_Hermione Jean Granger_  
_to_  
_Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley_  
_son of_  
_Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Weasley_  
_Saturday, the 1st of December_  
_two thousand and one_  
_at four o'clock in the afternoon_  
_Wilistead Manor_

The assembly line, consisting of Hermione, Luna and Mrs. Weasley, looked up in unison as Ginny appeared at the doorway to the kitchen. Oblivious to them all, she stifled a yawn and rubbed her eyes. The workers' scrutiny was rewarded by a glimpse of gold upon Ginny's fourth finger. They all busied themselves with their work, wide smiles on their faces.

"Whoops!" said Ginny as she awoke enough to take in the wedding preparations about her kitchen table. "Looks like I'm slacking as Maid of Honour, already! Sorry Hermione, let me just have a cup of coffee and then I'll help too."

"Oh don't worry about it, looks like you and Harry got in late, last night." Replied Hermione, surveying the guest list in her hand.

"Er… yeah well actually Harry prop –"

"I knew it!" Exclaimed Luna, abandoning her usual ethereal quality of speech.

Ginny was crushed by their congratulatory hugs, culminating in her mother taking her face in her hands and kissing her soundly on the forehead. "I can't believe my little girl is getting married!"

"Well go on, show them the ring!" cried Hermione.

Ginny patiently held up her left hand; truly her family's reaction was heartwarming.

Luna grasped Ginny's hand and led her to the kitchen table. Everyone gazed in wonder upon the gorgeous ring.

"Ginny, you know what this is, right?" asked Luna, her eyes shining with happiness.

"It's a Dearest Ring" replied Ginny, though it was something she had only learned the night before. "The stones spell out dearest; D for diamond, E for emerald, A for amethyst …"

The ring was simple and beautiful, a gold band with 7 perfectly round gemstones in a row, spelling out a Victorian age endearment.

"Apparently, it's been in Harry's family for ages. It's over a hundred years old"

The ladies sighed at the romance of it; this beautiful ring, a lover's token from times past. The sentiment was beautiful, but the ring itself was gorgeous and looked so at home on Ginny's slender finger.

"Oi, about time! Looks pretty good for a century old" said Ron, who had just appeared. He was towering above them as usually, stuffing a scone down his throat.

"Not near the invitations, will you?" cried Ginny fiercely, "You'll get crumbs all over!"

"Alright, alright keep your hair on, I just wanted a look." Ron waffled through his final mouthful of scone.

Before he was able to swallow, however, he had turned that too familiar shade of beet red. Forcing the rest of his breakfast down his throat he spluttered indignantly, "Did you HAVE to? Was it truly necessary to put my middle name on these?"

"Ron," soothed Hermione who had anticipated this particular drama sooner or later, "that's just how wedding invitations work, there's formal wording that you have to use."

Ron was not looking quelled, but Hermione knew her way around a fuming Ron. She wrapped her arms around him and automatically he relaxed. "Don't worry Ron, next to your middle name mine looks quite pathetic."

Hermione guided Ron into the sitting room and sat him down in a squashy armchair amidst his grumbling that their children will never have middle names. "Do you fancy some eggs and sausages?" Hermione talked over him. "Harry isn't awake yet, is he? I expect he'll be hungry too…why don't I just make some for you both, hmm?"

Just then Harry emerged into the kitchen, making a bee line for the coffee. He turned with the cup at his lips to find Mrs. Weasley fixing him with her most motherly and affectionate smile.

"Er… Morning, everyone" started Harry, in response to the three woman, looking expectantly at him. "she said Yes!" he finished.

Mrs. Weasley threw her hands up, "Well of course she did!" she said happily. Harry put down his coffee to properly hug his future mother in law.

"Oh Harry," she said without releasing him, "I know I'm not your mother, but you've always been my son."

Harry nodded and smiled, truly glad to have made Mrs. Weasley so happy. He disengaged himself to kiss his fiancé good morning.

"Morning," Ginny smiled leaning in for a kiss.

"Second thoughts yet?" mocked Harry, affectionately.

"None, so far. I'll keep you posted though."

Harry asked the same question every day that summer, and every day Ginny's answer was the same. Thankfully for both boys, neither bride-to-be seemed to be afflicted with any case of cold feet. The four of them spent the summer back and forth between their little cottage and The Burrow, indulging in the serene isolation of their separate pursuits as well as enjoying the company of their family and friends when they could.

When she wasn't attending to wedding plans, Hermione was climbing steadily in Hawthorne's good graces and was being awarded increasingly important roles in more meaningful projects every day. Ron and Harry were hitting the books even through their summer break from Auror training. Ginny had off-season practice nearly every day. Her team had hired an American conditioning coach to whip them into shape for the upcoming season and he had them working to the bone, daily. Harry started accompanying Ginny on her morning run, as it was sometimes the only time they had to spend in a day.

On their rare off days, the four of them often visited Hogwarts where Luna was studying under Professor Flitwick and Neville was assisting Professor Sprout. The boys would get up to no good while the girls usually positioned themselves under the big beech tree, closeted in their own world with Ginny and her sketchbook as she drew page after page of bridal creations from the minds of Hermione and Luna.

Hermione was a model fiancé. She hardly bothered Ron with any of the mundane aspects of wedding planning such as flower types or chair cover materials but instead consulted him and Harry on what they would consider to be the most important elements of the wedding. Harry and Ron's sole duty was to come along for dinner and cake tasting to offer their professional opinions, a task that neither had any argument with.

Ron was cracking up to be a fairly fantastic groom-to-be as well. He always seemed to know what to say when Hermione worked herself into a wedding planning panic, and never scoffed when she came to him with the stress of the almighty predicaments of choosing between lavender and lilac or crepe and silk. In fact, Ron came to learn a great deal about Hermione during these stressful months for her. He learned several important life lessons such as 'don't ask questions in the morning before Hermione's had her tea' and how about 'when Hermione has had it with wedding planning, put a novel in her hands and stick her on the sofa'.

Now that Harry and Ginny were also committed to spending their lives together too, they tended to pay a little closer attention to each other's quirks as well. Harry learned to read how quidditch practice went from the set of Ginny's shoulders as she walked in the door. Ginny learned that the only thing Harry will drink in the morning is black coffee and the only time he will drink black coffee is in the morning. Harry learned that Ginny was painfully shy about any sketch she made that didn't involve a wedding or bridesmaid gown, and nearly always refused to show him any of her real art. Harry learned to be patient and wait till she asked him if he wanted to see. Ginny learned to look in Harry's eyes for his true reaction to her art, as his words oftentimes failed him. Harry learned to exploit Ginny's weakness for London Fogs and also learned that any bad news was best presented alongside an offer to do the dishes or the washing.

Summer ended and things picked up even more. The Harpies resumed their season and no doubt due to their strict summer training schedule seemed unstoppable and were already being hailed the favourites for the league cup. Harry and Ron entered year 3 of their Auror training which involved accompanying fully qualified Aurors on missions in addition to their class and training hours. The only downside to this was that Ron and Harry were forbidden from going out on the same assignment as Kingsley Shacklebolt insisted that they learn to be fully efficient and functional on their own.

This proved to be a bigger hurdle than either Harry or Ron thought. They had been a team for so long that they just automatically covered for each other's shortcomings and never truly had to address their individual weaknesses. Now that he was forced to confront them, it had been more than once that Harry had come home, angry at his own mistakes and unable to stop himself from being temperamental with Ginny. Brooding Harry had not made an appearance for a couple years now, but Ginny had dealt with him before and learned fast when to give him space and when to speak her mind. Each day, Harry grew more astounded as to how two equally stubborn people could learn to deal with each other so easily. Still, they had their disagreements.

* * *

It was late October, and the clear fall evening was ripe with the cheers and the crowds celebrating another Harpy victory on their home pitch. Harry was on his way to the Harpies VIP area to congratulate Ginny on another spectacular game. Aside from being the best looking girl on the team (in his opinion, of course) Ginny was cracking up to be one of the most beloved players in the league for her fearlessness and her ability to make her prodigious skills seem effortless on the pitch. Following a game, she was usually harassed by reporters and cameramen for a couple of days before losing her cool and flinging a Bat-Bogey Hex at one of them. This time was no different of course; Harry was fighting his way through the crowd of cameras when his attention was diverted by a familiar blonde head.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Draco Malfoy amongst the sea of faces. Harry couldn't resist, he had to get a closer look, so he changed his course to see what his old nemesis was up to. Harry never could resist keeping tabs on Malfoy, it was just too deeply ingrained in him from his school years. He was sorely disappointed though. Malfoy was doing nothing more than guiding a young woman with raven black hair from the stands. To Harry's amazement she seem to be accompanying him of her own volition and even more amazing was the realization that Malfoy seemed to be enjoying her presence. Draco was on a date. Frightening. Even more frightening was the change in Draco's demeanor. No trace of a sneer or haughtiness was etched on his face. He looked as he could be downright tolerable to be with. "Strange," thought Harry has he headed back towards the Harpies box.

Harry conjured a single rose and handed it to his fiancé.

"Damn, Ginny, you're getting to famous for me." He said amidst the flashes of the cameras.

"Welcome to my life, you're one to talk." She replied dryly.

They turned to leave, Harry's arm noticeably at his side; he was terribly uncomfortable expressing any type of emotion in front of any type of camera. They were walking back towards the Harpy locker room now.

"You were excellent, though." Harry started, "except for that one pass in the last 10 minutes…you know which one I mean?"

"Yes, Harry, I know which one" replied Ginny, rolling her eyes slightly in reference to an easy pass she nearly fumbled due to her mistake.

"I think it could've been your mistake," Harry said evenly and honestly, "would have been better strategy to come around Ouellette from the right, not the left."

"Since when are you such a master strategist?" she scoffed.

"Since Kingsley forced me to break up with your brother." Replied Harry with an ironic smile. "No, matter though. You truly were brilliant, love."

"I know" replied Ginny, half sarcastic, half sugar sweetness. "Will you come with us, tonight? Philip wants to take us to Rouge."

"I think I'll pass on this one," replied Harry satisfied that he was far away enough from the cameras to kiss his girl. "You guys go on and have a great time; I have to be up at the crack of dawn to get into office early."

Harry left her at the doors of her locker room and headed home to get a good night's sleep.

The next morning, Hermione awoke as was her custom, at 6am and made a beeline to the teapot to get her morning started. She remembered Harry mentioning he was leaving early this morning, so she did him the favour of brewing his strong coffee for him.

The aroma of coffee was the pretty much the only way to get Harry out of bed this early in the morning, unless of course you were Ginny and had your ways. True to his reputation though, Harry emerged 15 minutes later into their tiny kitchen, fully dressed except for the tie he was struggling with around his neck.

Hermione waved her wand absentmindedly to pour him a mug which flew neatly into his hand.

"Thanks" he said, when he was revived enough from the first few sips"

"Oh Harry, 6 years of wearing a tie to school every day and you still can't manage it." She rolled her eyes as she pulled the tie from Harry's neck and began to tie it around her own.

"Fanks" he reiterated through a mouthful of toast.

She handed him the fully formed tie which he slipped over his neck and adjusted. Hermione always knew how to get the length just perfect - just one of her million hidden talents.

"Honestly" replied Hermione dryly and she stood up to adjust his collar to accommodate the tie, finally smoothing down the shoulders of his shirt.

"There" she said

"You're the best." Replied Harry, kissing her on the cheek.

Harry was already out the door when Hermione called out to him.

"Send the paper in if it's there already, will you? The daily prophet owls are getting so lazy!" Seconds later the Prophet zoomed into the kitchen and landed neatly on the table at her place.

Morning paper, morning tea… this is how every morning should start, mused Hermione. All was well in her world until she had the misfortune of opening the paper to page 3.

Here she was confronted with the ludicrous page sized image of Ginny Weasley, encased in her American coach's arms at the dimly lit Club Rouge. She was showing far more skin than usual and despite the fact that her lips were locked with Philip whatshisface, it was clear that the focal point of the image was the engagement ring glittering on the fourth finger of her hand that she had wrapped around Philip's neck.

The bold title splashed across the picture and accompanying article read:

"**GINNY WEASLEY CELEBRATES HARPY VICTORY IN THE ARMS OF_ ANOTHER_ MAN … FIRST EXCLUSIVE PHOTOGRAPH OF THE POTTER FAMILY ENGAGEMENT RING"**

* * *

**A.N. **Whoops, way to go there, Ginny. By the way if anyone is interested in Ginny's Dearest Ring ... w w w . thediamondstore . co . uk/images/productimages/15275 . jpg Is pretty much exactly how I imagined it to be (just remove the spaces to use the link)! **Review** as always, and I will write as fast as I can! Much love!

SiilverLining


	16. Heartsore

**A.N. **Honey I'm HOOMMME! Yeah, this story isn't dead yet. This picks up right where the last chapter ended :) Read and review, more to come.

Chapter 16: Heartsore

Amber tea spread steadily across the little wooden table, seeping from the shattered remains of Hermione's favourite teacup. Her eyes were wide as she held the news article up to the light, as if checking for counterfeit. It took a moment for her body to catch up to her brain; in an instant, she had pushed away from the kitchen table and was loudly pounding up the stairs. She approached Ginny's room and without bothering to knock, violently flung the door open. Drawing her breath, Hermione nearly choked on her own silence as she realized belatedly that Ginny's little bedroom was completely devoid of her sleeping presence.

Hermione pounded back down the stairs, towards Harry's room. She wrenched open Harry's door only to find again, no trace of Ginny. Hermione sank down on the wooden hallway floor between Harry and Ron's room, trying to catch her breath. She laid the newspaper on the ground and studied once again the offending photograph. It was enormous, spanning a full page. From the angle of the camera, Ginny's face was obscured by the back of Philip's head though it was clear their lips were locked. Ginny's lithe body was pressed closely against his, and just as if to add insult to injury, Ginny hand was thrown carelessly behind Philip's shoulder, her beautiful engagement ring in full display of the camera. Hermione folded the paper as small as she could and squeezed her eyes shut. She was confused, and angry but above all, terrified; Ginny had never not come home before, and Harry, poor Harry was about to be caught completely unaware, likely before he even reached work. She didn't know whether she should go after Harry or try to find Ginny. A million sinister situations chased each other around in her brain as she fought to think clearly.

Before Hermione could even register that she was sobbing, Ron emerged from his room in pajama bottoms, a look of alarm forming on his face. In an instant, Ron was on the ground next to Hermione, holding her trembling body as she continued to cry. Ron fought hard to find the Auror in him, the only part of himself that could suppress his emerging panic at seeing his fiancé in such a state.

"Hermione," he said as evenly as he could "tell me what's wrong."

Hermione was crying harder than before. She was unable to speak and gasping for air between sobs. Ron held her close and rubbed her back soothingly but there was no letting up. If her breathing didn't slow down, Ron knew she would faint before being able to tell him what's wrong. Sighing, he pulled away as gently as possible.

"Okay… okay. You're fine… lean against me," he said "now bring your knees up and put your head down." Ron gently guided Hermione's head between her knees. "Now just breathe."

Hermione did as she was told, Ron's arm still around her. Her breathing slowed until she was able to get a handle on herself.

"I think Ginny is in trouble."

Hermione felt Ron's body tense beside hers. Without removing her head from between her knees, she held up the wadded newspaper for Ron. He opened the paper and Hermione heard his sharp intake of breath.

"She's not in the house; she didn't come home last night." She added, shakily, sitting upright against the wall.

"Okay." said Ron, drawing himself together. He stood and then helped Hermione up beside him. "You're going to stay here and wait in case she comes home. Send your patronus to Harry and see if you can get him before he sees that paper."

Ron was already in his room, buckling his belt and reaching for his cloak.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I'm going to go find her, of course." Ron said, stowing his wand in his sleeve and closing the door behind him.

"Are you going to be alright?" he asked, concern emerging as he regarded Hermione, pale faced and clutching the wall for support.

Hermione rolled her eyes, already beginning to be embarrassed at her reaction. "I'm fine, hurry up and go."

Before she knew what was happening, Ron had swept her in his arms.

"You're not fine." He said grimly as he carried her down the stairs. She was still trembling. He set her down on a chair at the kitchen table and set the water to boil with a wave of his wand. Ron was worried, this was not like her. Hermione had been known to lose composure from time to time but still she had dealt with all manner of crises with a relatively level head.

"Go." She ordered. "She's never not come home. I'll get Harry."

Ron kissed Hermione on the lips, trying to impart as much tenderness as he could while fighting his internal panic.

"Go." Hermione pleaded again. When she opened her eyes, he was gone.

Hermione's shaky voice emanated from the faint silver otter before it vanished in a swirl of opalescent vapour. Harry was livid and terrified at the same time. He turned on the spot, his robes flaring about him. His wand steady in one hand, the rolled up Prophet in the other.

Hermione had not moved from her spot at the kitchen table for what seemed like hours. Her eyes stared at the book in front of her, refusing to take in any meaning. She snapped Hogwarts a History shut when she heard the crunch of gravel under boots outside the front door. Harry walked in carrying Ginny in his arms. She was wrapped up under his cloak and from the limpness of her body, appeared to be unconscious. Ron ducked in the entrance a step behind Harry. Both were wearing stony expressions on their faces. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Harry was already shouldering past her, headed up the stairs towards Ginny's room.

"What happened?" asked Hermione, her eyes moving between Harry's retreated back and Ron's face.

Ron heaved a sigh and parked himself at the table. "She was drugged. Good old Philip tipped a potion in her drink."

Hermione's jaw dropped and refused to return to its original position. "He didn't… I mean… did he do anything to her?"

"Would have." Ron replied grimly. "That beater on the team, Rollins, and her boyfriend saw that piece of slime take her into a corner. Next thing he had his mouth all over her face. I'm not sure how they got her away, but Rollins' boyfriend is sporting a black eye this morning."

Hermione still couldn't close her mouth. This was one of those things that happened to that random girl your cousin knew from the office, not to your best friend.

"Well is she alright now? She's not still drugged is she?"

"Er. Well, she woke up around the time that Harry and I got to Rollins' house. She didn't remember anything and panicked when she saw the paper. Harry gave her a calming draught to make her sleep."

Hermione sat in silence, staring dead ahead.

"We already took some of her blood, ran the standard charms on it to see what that arse put in her drink. It's nothing permanent, only the after effects are pretty nasty. It's better for her to sleep through it."

Still Hermione couldn't speak.

"Hey." Ron said, tipping Hermione's chin his way with a gentle hand. "She's fine now. It was just a close call."

Hermione's wide eyed expression was vulnerable and Ron could see right through to her tightly ravelled fears, tucked neatly away in the one slightly less than rational corner of Hermione's brain.

"Let's go upstairs, you need a nap." This was one thing Ron had learned well. When women were acting strange and confusing, it's usually because they are lacking of either sleep or food. Given the tired circles under Hermione's eyes, Ron sensed it was the former.

"Do you really think there's anything you don't know in there?" Ron murmured affectionately as Hermione collected Hogwarts a History from the table as they stood to leave.

"It's just a comfort thing." She replied in a tiny voice.

Endeared, Ron nuzzled Hermione's jaw before wrapping an arm around her waist and walking her towards the stairs.

"Morning, Sunshine." Harry murmured as Ginny's long lashed eyes fluttered slowly open. He waited while she took made a few bewildered glances around her bedroom, struggling to find her bearings. Her eyes came to rest finally on Harry's. "How are you feeling?"

"Cold." Ginny whispered, pulling the blankets closer to her chin.

Harry sat on the edge of her bed, pulling the warm quilt around her body. When she shivered still, Harry pulled his shirt off and settled next to her under the blankets, wrapping his arms tightly around her small, shaking body.

"Mmm… that's better." Ginny murmured tiredly. "You're so warm."

"Sorry," said Harry through a smile, "had I known you were nigh freezing, I would've been happy to get in with you much earlier.

She said nothing, but settled more closely against Harry, her back to his chest, accepting all his warmth and the sweetness of his kiss against her neck.

"I'm sorry." She started. "For everything. Were you mad when you saw the paper?"

"Mad?" He pondered. "I'm not sure mad covers it. Although, I wasn't even half as enraged as I was when Patricia Rollins told me what _he _did."

"I'm sorry. I must have put down my drink and I should have known bet –"

Harry silenced her with a kiss so deep, that she found herself losing grip on the situation, if only for a moment.

"No apologies." He murmured, into the scant space between their lips. "Not your fault. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything." She whispered, heart aching at her fiancé's ability to erase her mistakes so surely, to make like easy and clear in even the worst moments.

A grave smile curled across Harry's face. "Promise me that you've never harboured feelings for that imbecile."

"Never."

"Even though he's blond with perfect American teeth and rippling muscles?"

"I harbour a fondness for skinny dark haired men with good old fashioned British teeth." She replied. Her smile was teasing, but her thick-lashed eyes were wide and genuine, willing him to believe her.

"Okay." Said Harry, closing his eyes, and losing himself in the ripeness of Ginny's lips. "Mmm…" he protested after a moment, "Who're you calling skinny?"

Ginny laughed as Harry moved his lips to brush against her collarbone. "Thank you for coming for me, for not hating me." She said, unexpected tears rising to her eyes.

"Thank your friends for getting you home. Merlin knows… if they weren't so sharp." Harry was unable to repress the shudder that wracked his body.

Suddenly Ginny felt uneasy. There was something missing here. Growing up in a house full of brothers, she knew there was something missing. Turning in his arms, she gazed at Harry quizzically. "What are you going to do?" she asked. It suddenly made her nervous that Harry wasn't swearing oaths of revenge and retribution like any other man would; his silence had a sinister air about it.

"Well… I considered various possibilities. While you were out cold, I – er – had to resort to wood splitting, muggle style, to preserve my sanity."

Uh-oh. Ginny knew what muggle wood splitting meant. It was an activity that Harry pursued with violent delight only in times of serious anger and internal distress. There was something about the physical release of such a non-magical pursuit that cleared his head – so he said.

"Let's just say I'm pretty sure we're covered for wood this winter. And I probably won't be able to raise my arms above my head for a week, come tomorrow."

"And what of Philip?"

"Well if it was up to me, no spell would be enough. Personally, I would like to use my own two hands to tear apart his ugly face. I could fathom a couple of other seriously graphic ways of ruining him."

Ginny was silent.

"But… given that it was you who suffered at his hand, and given that this happened primarily because I wasn't there stop it… I think the honour of deciding this bastard's fate goes to you." Harry was calm as he spoke, but Ginny saw the tightness of his jaw and the twitch at his temple.

"I'm sorry." Ginny started slowly, "I know you would really like to wood split him with that axe. But I'd sooner just forget about this all. I don't want to see his face again, ever. I don't want him to work this job ever again. Oh… and a public apology explaining the photograph would be nice as well."

"Do I at least get to threaten him, personally?" Harry asked, an edge to his voice that Ginny hadn't heard in years.

"Fine…" She hesitated "but only if you promise to control yourself." She acceded.

"Ok, promise" Harry sealed it with another kiss on the lips. It was less than what he wanted, but no more than he expected. Ginny was like that – had it been anyone she loved who was threatened, she would be the one wielding the axe; since it was only herself though, she would be forgiving.

Since Ginny was not up for much more, Harry made his excuses to his office, and spent the rest of the day curled up in bed with his woman. They talked about what it would be like when Ron and Hermione married in a few weeks, what it would be like to have the house to themselves while the newlyweds honeymooned. Harry got up once to make Ginny's favourite: pancakes for dinner. They ate in bed, savouring the preciousness of the time they had together. Harry couldn't take his eyes off of her, couldn't bring himself to let go of her hand. Thinking about what might have happened was more than he could take; it felt a little bit like ice being driven into the heart, it enraged him, terrified him.

Long after Ginny had fallen asleep again, Harry lay awake contemplating the needful. Tomorrow he would go have words with Ginny's would be assaulter. He would make sure her wishes were carried out exactingly. But what after? This whole episode brought to the surface something that Harry had known all along. She was his strength, but she was his deepest weakness.

How many times had she been his motivation, the source of his drive. Just thinking about her – her downright toughness, her wit, her compassion, her grace – it made him want to be a better man. But he wore it on his sleeve, he always had. It would be only too easy for an adversary to ensnare him through her. There was nothing he wouldn't do to protect her, nothing he could not give up for her.

At odds with the peaceful rise and fall of her shoulders – at odds with the sliver of moonlight that cast a silvery glow to her fire-red hair – the thought was unsettling.


End file.
